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bertoltblecht · 10 days ago

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On Call - Six

Characters - Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x OFC , Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Jack Abbot, Frank Langdon, Dana Evans,

Summary - Rose Reilly is a surgical resident specializing in trauma medicine under Drs Robinavitch and Abbot. A series of scenes involving Robby and Rose.

Word count: 4512

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, , Sex, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Ideation, Comfort/Hurt, Where the comfort also hurts

A/N: Edited! I am chuffed with how this turned out and all the lite brite pegs in my brain light up when the characters on the TV act like how they would in my head. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know?

The thought came to her so fast and fully formed that it momentarily scared her how serious it felt. How tempting. Rose never felt like she was especially in control of her passing thoughts, but the speed with which her active mind latched onto the idea actually took her breath away.

She had never had a panic attack at work before, and she was not about to break that streak because this was hour twenty of her day and too much of her mind was imagining the roof. She needed something else to focus on. As she took the elevator down, she walked herself through the steps of a pericardiocentesis for cardiac tamponade to engage more of her brain and push her exhausted thoughts back into their box. It wasn’t ideal but you could hopefully avoid aortic dissection when the heart was struggling due to increased fluid. It could bridge the gap to surgery by removing some of the excess fluid and reducing the strain on the right ventricle.

After going up to surgery fifteen minutes before the scheduled end of her shift to assist on an aortic dissection that did not make it, Rose arrived back down in the Pitt after midnight to find that two pick-up trucks full of teenagers coming back from prom had collided in a cornfield. They more than needed the hands and Abbot didn’t ask how long she’d been there, just let her put on a gown and gloves and get to work.

Hours slipped by and Rose forgot entirely that she was supposed to have gone home. Working with Abbot was different from working with Robby, who tended to coach helpfully through the whole process. Abbot observed and corrected as needed. He watched her in glances from his own work as she twice removed fluid from the pericardium of a teen girl with cardiac contusions and a silver, satin dress. Rose called time of death twenty minutes later, and Abbot caught her eye for a moment to make sure she was still upright.

It wasn’t until she got back to the charge desk and saw the sun shining through the doors of the waiting room that she realized she was now in hour twenty-five, and the ouroboros had consumed her. Her next shift was starting soon. The waiting room was packed and Abbot was already in the process of getting ready to hand things back over to Robby, who she had last seen the night before on his way out while she was on her way to the OR.

Twelve teens - five had been sent up to surgery and admitted to the ICU, four would get to leave with their parents, three wouldn’t see graduation next month.

Rose watched four patients die in six hours.

She collapsed into the computer chair beside Abbot’s station and let her forehead rest on the countertop. “You should start texting to see if you can find someone to replace you in a few hours,” Abbot commented from beside her. So he did know how long she had been there. “I’d consider lying for you, but you look like shit.”

Fuck. Rose was going to be in trouble.

She was about to lift her head and come up with something rude to say back, but Abbot continued, “Morning, Robby.”

“Have you not left?” came the response clearly not intended for the other senior attending.

“Good morning to you too,” Rose mumbled, not lifting her head up.

“You know there are rules for a reason, right? You can’t just keep sprinting the marathon. Has she been here all night?” Robby’s tone was more incredulous than angry, but this had been a point of contention before and his frustration was evident.

Rose couldn’t see Abbot’s nod. “Robby,” he started with a warning tone.

“What are we supposed to do when we have to send you home five hours into your shift now?” He asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “People depend on you. You can’t be Rosie the Owl for 30 plus hours straight - lives are at stake.”

“Dr. Robinavitch.” Abbot’s sharp rebuke drew the other man’s attention and he looked confused as Jack shook his head, his expression serious.

He looked back at Rose as she was lifting her head. There was no way she’d heard him correctly; Rose had been awake far too long and her auditory processing must be suffering for it. The empty expression on her face knocked the annoyed one off Robby’s.

“I asked her to stay on, we had a dozen drunk teens thrown out of trucks and two of my residents are out with the flu.” Abbot said he wasn’t going to lie for her and he wasn’t exactly lying. He hadn’t asked her to stay, but he didn’t tell her to leave.

“Can I speak with you in private?” Jack asked as he stepped around the desk and, whether intentionally or not, graciously blocked her from Robby’s line of sight. “Go power nap, Reilly. Someone will grab you after rounds, you already know what’s going on.”

Rose’s eyes stung at Abbot’s quick defense of her. She didn’t trust her vocal cords to work against the tightness in her throat. Nodding in agreement, she pushed herself out of the chair and glanced out of the corner of her eye at Robby, who looked equal parts guilty and concerned. She gestured vaguely in the direction of the lounge and headed off.

Abbot placed a hand on Robby’s shoulder to encourage him the other direction and into a sitting room. He let the door click behind them before asking simply, “Do you have a problem with Reilly?”

“What?” Robby sputtered, his eyebrows pinching together. “No, I don’t have a problem with Dr. Reilly.”

Jack nodded and followed up evenly, “Name another time you walked into work, took one look at an exhausted doctor, and launched into a lecture.”

Robby didn’t need this. “I’ve had this conversation with her multiple times, especially recently, about how many hours she pulls and how many she’s off in between shifts. It’s not bullshit. It’s important.” The two attendings locked eyes until he continued. “I will apologize for not asking if there were extenuating circumstances,” he conceded.

“She lost four patients while she should have been off the clock, man, and helped save nine stupid teenagers' lives.” Jack shook his head. “What’s your issue?”

“That she lost four patients while she should have been off the clock,” Robby exhaled, rubbing both hands over his face. “Do you hear yourself?” Fuck. His day hadn’t even started. “She’s going to snap at some point and I’m trying very hard not to just watch it happen, Jack.”

“What was with the nickname? That guy and that story sucked.” Jack raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It’s just one of the handful of things I know about her,” Robby admitted. He didn’t have a defense for it. He felt exposed when it came to Rose. She had seen him at his most vulnerable, coaxed him back from the edge, and then slipped out the door like a ghost.

Jack didn’t respond.

Another fragment of information about Rose came to him. “Did you know her grandfather was a medic in Korea?” Robby asked after a long moment, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

For a moment, it was Abbot’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Yes,” he answered finally with a shrug. “I like to understand the residents. I even talk to them on occasion. I don’t like sharing other people’s info.”

Robby sighed heavily. He had always tried to understand the Rose of today. There was a lot to know. They talked. Not so much about their pasts before medical school, but he didn’t know nothing. He realized he had barely, if ever, asked for information about her past though, she had just offered it to him.

“No time to sulk. Be nicer to her. She’s good.” Jack shrugged. “I’m gonna tell her to go home.” He was informing Robby, not asking, as he left the room.

A glance at the clock told Abbot he was officially off-duty. He grabbed his things from below the charge desk and stuck his head into the lounge, sighing when he didn’t find Rose.

Looking around for Dana, he caught her eye as she was on the phone with dispatch. “Hey Dana. Reilly - stairs or elevator?” he asked and she pointed toward the elevator before relaying the first incoming trauma of the morning to Robby as he emerged stoic from the sitting room.

Dramatic, Reilly.

Jack hit the button for the roof and leaned back against the handrail as he waited, fingers tapping impatiently against the metal. He relaxed and even almost smiled when he arrived outside.

Bless her - she wasn’t even past the safety railing. Rose was sitting cross legged in front of the barrier, her arms folded on the metal, chin perched on top of them.

“Good work respecting the safety features of the roof.” Abbot sat beside her, and she lifted a hand to mock-salute him.

Rose came up to the roof because when she laid down on the couch in the lounge, the anxiety pooled in her head and the Loud Thoughts returned. She didn’t have the strength after so many hours on her feet to walk up the stairs to the trauma center roof.

In truth, she hadn’t respected the boundary at all. When she got up there, she stepped under it and spent a few minutes staring over the edge to feel something, anything, for a moment. It worked better than the coffee she pounded in the lounge, but faded as she stepped away.

“Did Robby call me Rosie the Owl or do I need a psych consult?” Rose didn’t have the mental energy for subtlety.

Abbot had a reputation for being a hardass and a lot of that had to do with his unflappable demeanor and deadpan delivery, but Rose could tell he liked people fine. He just wasn’t especially warm.

“Your friend from a while back referred to you that way,” Abbot confirmed. “He told the shrooms in the woods story,” He added a second later, figuring the context may matter. He had his head turned to look at her, but when she looked back out at the skyline, he did the same.

“It’s been a long time since someone called me that, I really thought I was losing it even more than just from being awake this long and watching so many people die today.” Rose let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but she wasn’t hydrated enough to actually cry.

“You’re off the hook for day shift, you should head home. You did good work tonight. No need for you to be up here.” Abbot watched her hold in a deep breath and he shook his head. “Go home, Reilly. Sleep it off. You’re needed.”

It was succinct and genuine, and on any other day hearing Abbot be that nice probably would have worked. “I need a minute.” Her tone was flat, eyes still far away.

“You’ve got five, and then we’ll head out,” Abbot agreed and leaned back on his hands.

Rose cast a glance at him without moving her head. “No one babysits you when you come up here.”

“That’s not true. Someone usually sends Robby after particularly bad nights.”

Of course they did. So, where was he now? Rose shut her eyes and pushed down that bitterness; it wasn’t a fair expectation. You had to ask for help to get it, she reminded herself. And she never could bring herself to ask him anymore.

Suddenly, for maybe the first time, Dr. Rose Reilly did not want to be at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

“Alright, let’s go.” Pushing herself up using the barrier, Rose’s legs felt restless. It was time to leave the roof because it actually felt too tempting, and the other alternative was leaning into the breakdown, which she wasn’t about to do in front of Jack fucking Abbot.

The attending stood with her and kept silent as they headed back downstairs. Her skin itched with the weight of his gaze, and she felt guilty and anxious even through her exhaustion. Every moment he spent thinking she was unstable undermined his confidence in her. Each crack in the facade made people less certain of her competence.

By the time the elevator opened back to the Pitt, Rose had lowered her mental blast shields and plastered a blank expression on her face.

Robby’s eyes found them leaving the elevator and going separate ways while he listened to an intern present during rounds. Abbot went for the exit without another look back while Rose pushed into the locker room.

“Alright, we’re a little short-handed, what else is new? Let’s put our heads down and get to it.” Robby clapped and sent the gaggle of ER doctors scattering about their jobs.

He walked quickly to loop around and catch Rose by the exit to the parking lot. “Hey, can we talk for a second?” he called, making her stop at the door.

Robby tried not to take it personally the way her shoulders fell wearily, but she turned back to him and nodded. He took a look around and then reached past her to push the door open and gestured for them both to step outside.

“I’m sorry for fucking up-“

“Are you alright?” Robby cut her off with a sigh, reaching a hand out to nudge her chin up with his knuckle. The eye contact alone would have been too much but the gentle physical contact made her throat tighten annoyingly again. He was still touching her, and all she could do was close her eyes against the onslaught of concern coming from him.

Rose sniffled once, trying to turn clearing her throat into a soft chuckle. “No,” she said, mustering just enough of a joking tone to muddy the waters.

Letting his hand drop between them, Robby paused, mulling over his words. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat. I obviously didn’t know what happened overnight and I should have asked first. That wasn’t fair to you or the work you do.” He hesitated and then pushed through when she didn’t reply. “I know it seems like nitpicking, but I don’t want to see you dead on your feet from the weight of a shift that wasn’t yours. It’s not only about the rules.”

“With respect…” Rose started and then took a deep breath before looking at him. “I’m not going to stop doing the thing I know you would have done too just because it hurts, and you don’t want to watch. I’m sorry for breaking the rules, but I’m not sorry for being here because… In order to not wanna drive my car off the bridge, I have to remind myself over and over of the people I saved while I was supposed to be at home watching reality TV and not think so fucking hard about the ones I didn’t.”

Realizing his well-intentioned but deeply hypocritical plea had been what she needed to feel indignant about being alive again almost forced a laugh from her.

Nothing she said seemed to shock Robby, and how could it? She was practically narrating from inside his own coping mechanisms. It felt like a victory to have stumped him, watching him rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger, chuckling to himself.

“Get outta my head,” he chided lightly, the whisper of a smile on his lips. He stopped to look at her and sighed. “Are you good to drive home?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t sleep in an on-call room. It’s time to go home.” None of those sentences were a confirmation though, and he frowned at her for a second.

“Do you want to crash on my couch for a while?” The question surprised both of them and Rose hesitantly met his gaze with pinched brows. “I’m going to be here, obviously, and I think you can make the walk. You can sleep until you’re sure you want to get in your car.”

“You trust me in your space unsupervised?” Rose joked lightly. She couldn’t quickly parse through the tangle of emotions at the thought of being back in Robby’s apartment.

“Trust you with my life,” he replied easily.

“Low bar, I’m a surgeon, but I could also be a kleptomaniac,” her tone was measured, cautious.

“I think everything in there is replaceable, have at it.” At least he was amused with her now instead of annoyed.

Rose fixed him with a stare, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head, a silent question.

“I’m calling your bluff on the klepto part, but I’m serious. I’d feel better if you did.” To punctuate the request, he pulled his keys from his cargo pants and took off the spare, holding it out. “Call it an apology nap.”

All Rose could think about was being five minutes and a walk from sleep instead of at least a half hour and a drive. She relented in spite of herself and took the key with a nod, biting her cheek. “I’ll be invisible,” she promised.

Robby shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “You can’t hurt anything.” He was acting more casual than he felt. The idea of her in his apartment made him anxious, but not as anxious as the thought of her driving home.

A moment passed before either realized they were waiting for the other to say something else. Robby’s pager broke the silence and he pointed back at the door. “I have to get back, text if the place is on fire or something. Get some sleep. Please.” He went back inside before she could respond.

The apartment was the same as when Rose saw it the first time, but now she was allowed to freely glance about it without feeling like she was stealing. It was clean - he had minimal dishes in the sink and a record, The River by Bruce Springsteen, left on the turntable. He had wall decor, framed photos and a handful of posters from things like an Andy Warhol exhibit and the Penguins Stanley Cup victories. There was a dartboard in the area with a dining table and chairs and enough dart holes in the wall to suggest he wasn’t worried about a deposit.

For a moment after climbing the stairs, her heart wouldn’t get the memo that she wasn’t being hunted for sport and so she sat on the cold tile floor of his kitchen and went through the list of decisions accumulating in her head.

His bedroom was fully off-limits, no need to give herself the optional scenery for dreams, day or otherwise. Plus she was being respectful.

She had to take a shower and change into her spare clothes; there wasn’t another option. She had everything from her gym bag though, so she could avoid getting her day in the Pitt on his couch.

The next choice tripped her up. How long was he expecting her to be there? He surely wanted to come home to his empty apartment after his own shift, right? Even on the nights they used to spend together, Robby liked to stop home first. It would be hours before he’d be home though - that still gave her plenty of time, she would set an alarm.

There were a million other things her body needed, but with those decisions settled, she stood again and made for the bathroom.

Showers were hit or miss; sometimes the overwhelming sensory experience did its job of limiting her ability to think too hard, and sometimes it created the perfect background static for her mind to wander. There were so many things to think about standing in the unfamiliar shower. Rose tipped her head up into the blast of too-hot water until it started to cool. The pressure of not being cold always won out over obsessive thinking.

Her muscles felt heavier and heavier as she dressed and it was all she could do to make it to the couch. The tightness wound inside her started to loosened, exhaustion finally winning.

Too much of Robby’s headspace during his shift was consumed by thoughts of Rose. On his walk home with a couple orders of Chinese takeout, he wondered if she would even still be there. He was quiet, just in case, unlocking his door. Her shoes, bag, and coat were all immediate signs of her presence. Rounding the corner, he found her on the couch curled up and hugging one of the throw pillows, the knit wool blanket from the back of his armchair over her legs.

A rush of affection made his chest ache as he watched her slow, deep breaths. He closed his eyes as he pathetically identified the ache as missing her.

After setting the food in the kitchen and his stuff in his bedroom, Robby sat on the chair and reached out to gently rub his hand over her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered a little and she hummed. “Quit watching me sleep, you’ll humanize me,” she mumbled with a small smirk.

“Uh-oh, too late, I’m imagining you complexly,” he laughed. Robby was relieved, nearly elated at the lightness in her voice. Ten hours of sleep tended to help.

Rose sat up as she opened her eyes, grunting as her joints popped and her muscles protested. “I didn’t mean to take a coma here,” she said apologetically with a yawn.

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you were able to get some sleep,” Robby assured her and sat back with a tired sigh. ”I grabbed food, I didn’t know if you’d eaten anything. I should have mentioned you could have whatever, I hope you did.”

He had officially said more words in the minute she was awake then the entire last time she was here, and the nervousness in his tone actually calmed something in Rose. He had picked up dinner. Part of him thought she would still be there. She stopped herself from assigning hope on his part to the action, but once again his attention felt like spring sun.

“I only had exactly enough energy to get up the stairs and through the shower,” she admitted, running her fingers over the impossibly soft wool in her lap. “But I could eat.”

“Great, good, I’m just going to get the Pitt off me and then I’ll join you. Everything is in the kitchen, help yourself.” Robby stood with a tired grunt to go shower. His tone was hard to read, he seemed both glad she was there and also like he was holding his breath for her to leave.

He poked his head back around the corner of the hall a moment later. “Turn on the tv or a record or something, it’s too quiet.”

“That’s permission to judge your record collection,” Rose called back to him, smiling to herself as she heard his laugh. She poked through the shelves of albums, thinking about how he’d laughed at her Cat Stevens collection when he’d perused her albums. She slid The River back into its sleeve and put it back on the shelf before starting the b-side of Grace by Jeff Buckley and going into the kitchen.

The music was faint over the pressure of the shower but Robby was grateful for something for his mind to strain to make out. The rest of his shift hadn’t been that bad, all things considered. When his mind wasn’t heavy… It was nice to spend evenings with Rose.

He made it quick and ran a towel over his hair a few times before pulling on an old zip-up sweatshirt and sweatpants. Robby hummed to himself in approval at the album and its relatively high volume.

Rose was always captivating - confident and intelligent, composed but defiant. It struck him how long it had been since he’d seen her like this though. Barefoot, barely there, but relaxed. She was flipping through a medical journal off his counter and eating an egg roll. He cleared his throat because he suddenly felt like he was intruding.

“You could have snooped for bowls,” he teased her and reached behind her to open a cabinet by the stove.

“I was determined to eat all the egg rolls to punish you for calling me Rosie the Owl,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Robby had the decency to turn red around the ears and temples.

“And in front of Abbot,” she tutted. Now that she wasn’t on the edge of a menty-b, it was time to make him squirm a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was shitty. I didn’t mean it to be shitty but it was and I’m sorry.”

Rose shrugged. “It’s okay.” She nudged him gently, rolling her eyes as he sighed again. “It’s fine, lighten up.” She reached out to touch his cheek, he was so close to her now, practically radiating warmth from the shower and smelling clean and safe.

“I didn’t mean to make your day harder.” Robby allowed himself to lean into her touch.

Rose chuckled and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “You couldn’t have made my day harder if you tried.”

He lifted his hand to rub over the middle of her back. Her hands slid into the open zip of his hoodie and around his middle, stepping closer. It was hard not to want more contact once she had it.

She looked at him finally and closed the distance to kiss him. He grunted, both hands coming up to cup her cheeks, kissing her sweetly, soundly and then nudging his nose against hers. “You are being fueled by grief and egg rolls,” he whispered, making her chuckle and half-sob.

“So?” she mumbled, but he was right. She leaned her head on his shoulder again, kissing his jaw lightly. “Missed you,” she breathed against his skin, feeling him shiver.

“Missed you too.” He caught her for one more long kiss before he stepped away for both their sake.

Rose took a deep breath and licked her lips. “I should go.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s still early and you live in the parking lot of the hospital so it’s a short walk.”

Robby heaved a sigh but shrugged. “Yeah, if you wanna go. Good to drive?” He asked, his chest aching again.

“Yes, all good,” Rose nodded, heart racing like she had slammed an energy drink. “I’ll text when I’m home. Thank you for letting me crash.”

“It’s my pleasure, anytime.”

They didn’t touch again as she put her shoes on and grabbed her stuff. When she left, the record still playing was the only evidence she’d been there at all. An hour or so later when he let himself check his phone, she’d texted.

Rose: home

Rose: thanks again

Robby: anytime

Robby: see you tomorrow

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#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby #dr robby x ofc #on call #writing #Michael Robinavitch #Noah Wyle #doctor robby #Dr. Michael Robinavitch #the pitt hbo #the pitt max #six #jack abbot #dr abbot

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beatinginavoid · 4 months ago

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Can you write something about a young man being stabbed to the heart and left to bleed out? He's still conscious as the tamponade compresses his heart muscle and someone eventually finds him and calls an ambulance. A dramatic resus scene ensues...

Hello, hello! Sorry for the long wait. I'm not big on resus, but I hope I did the request justice.

🗡️🫀

It was quick. It was all so fast. One moment Dan was leaving the building and walking to his car, the next someone else appeared seemingly from nowhere. It was late, and he had stayed behind at a café to try and enjoy a drink, some food, and some background ambience before going home.

A person, dressed entirely in dark clothes, had blindsided him. Silver flashed under the moonlight, then a sharp pain engulfed him. He had fallen to his knees and then collapsed onto his back.

So here he was, staring almost unseeingly at the night sky, the light pollution reducing the visible number of stars.

An odd warmth covered his chest. Dan raised his hands and clumsily patted across his chest. He looked at his palm to see glistening red liquid.

Oh. He was bleeding. That was bad, right?

His mind, whirling and confused, told him pressure – apply pressure. Dan found the spot that hurt the most and placed both hands over it, trying his best to press down. It was only then did he notice his hands were directly over his heart.

In that moment, the pain truly registered. Every beat of his heart panged in pain, every agonising thump pounding in his head as well as his chest.

This was bad. This was so bad. Dan knew nothing about medical things, but any idiot would know that getting stabbed in the heart was way up there on the bad scale. His lungs were still working, but his vocal cords had decided to take an impromptu vacation. Any attempts to call out for help were thwarted before they started.

He would likely die here, and some poor soul would trip over his cold corpse hours from now. What a dismal way to go. Crimson warmth pulsed underneath his palm at a steady rate. How long did it take the average person to bleed out? It would be quicker since the blood was being pumped directly from the heart – the centre of the circulatory system.

The process being fast meant it would be less painful until he no longer felt anything. Which was looking better and better as the pain in his chest started growing. Despite the blood leaking out of him, Dan’s chest began to feel tight, as if a band was around his ribs slowly compressing them tighter with every shaky, desperate breath.

His head felt strangely floaty, but his heart was sending clear signals to his brain. Every contraction of his cardiac muscle, every inflation and deflation of his lungs, was screaming inside his mind, cutting easily through all of the fog.

Each thump pounded even as it felt like a fist was around the pump, the fingers squeezing without relent. The beating in his head sounded muffled and breathing became more and more of a chore.

“Holy shit!”

A guy appeared over him, looming like a vulture, eyes wide and mouth open in horror. The man fumbled for a moment before bringing a phone up to his ear. Dan heard the word ambulance spoken amongst a bunch of gibberish and a tiny spark of hope lit up in his struggling heart.

His blood soaked hand was nudged aside and a folded jacket replaced it, two hands pushing it down far more firmly than Dan had managed. His breath hitched slightly and he groaned at the pressure and increased pain. Now it felt as though there was a heavy weight trying to crush his ribs from the front, even as the imaginary band around them squeezed the sides tighter.

Dan’s heart thudded awkwardly, feeling as though it skipped several beats, then stumbled its way through several more, before doggedly picking up the pace under the new onslaught.

The poor thing did not feel up to this challenge anymore. Although going faster, the beats did not feel as strong as before. Dan’s mind vividly conjured up the image of his cardiac muscle shaking and wobbling like a runner on their last legs, the blood barely being moved until the muscle spasmed once then fell still.

Was he dead?

No, no, he could still feel the organ pumping inside his chest.

How much longer could the injured and stressed heart keep going?

The guy’s face was looming in his blurred and shrinking field of vision again. The mouth was moving, but nothing seemed able to penetrate the cotton wool stuffed in his ears, and surrounding his brain, except for his own thoughts, shallow panting, and uncertain heartbeat.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpathump… ba-thump… ba-thump… ba-thumpthumpthumpthumpthump…… ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpathump…ba-thumpathump…ba-thumpathump………… ba-thump……… ba-thump…… ba-thump…… ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpbathumpbathumpbathumpBATHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP… BA-thump…BA-thump…ba-thumpathump…

There was no dancer in the world, no matter how talented, that would be able to dance to such an erratic, off-key, mess of percussion.

Dan could no longer feel his fingers or toes. If he was moving them, he couldn’t tell. Were they even still attached? His head felt so floaty that he wasn’t entirely sure it was still stuck to his neck. His neck, which was linked to his torso. His torso, that was being crushed, squashed, and squeezed relentlessly. The effects of which were making it very hard for his lungs to inflate like they should. His lungs, that surrounded his heart, were unable to give the beating muscle enough room for it to do its job adequately either. His heart, pierced, injured, somehow still gamely struggling along.

A struggle that was all too likely to end soon.

The guy was still hovering over him, still pressing down his chest, still talking. The words were no more audible than before, but now the man’s face was no longer in the dark. It was oddly alight, flickering quickly between red and blue, like he was in a colour limited rave.

Dan didn’t remember going to a rave. He had been in a nice, quiet café, right? Was he still there? No… No, he’d left. He was outside. That was right, outside in the cold. He didn’t feel cold. Shouldn’t he feel cold?

Not being cold didn’t feel bad though. So, it was a good thing, right?

Something about that set alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. But his mind was too fuzzy to properly register them, let alone dredge up the energy to do anything about it. Dan was tired. So, so tired.

Tired people should sleep, right? Sleep was healthy and important.

His eyes were halfway closed when a new blurry figure popped into view, also flickering red and blue. Their mouth was moving too, although Dan couldn’t hear them either.

Had the rave damaged his hearing? No, he hadn’t even been at a rave. He’d just established the events in his mind, hadn’t he? Ugh, thinking was hard.

His head, which he was ninety-nine percent sure was only hanging by a thread, pounded dully in time with the out of tune drum in his rib cage. It really was an awful beat - musicians would weep in sheer horror and frustration.

The guy pressing into the drum really needed to stop and let the poor instrument retire.

There was an odd sensation, and Dan swore as the pressure on his heart shifted. It was as if every fibre of the moving muscle was trying to beat while being pulled completely taut, the strain visceral despite the blood that slicked the whole surface. Things slid over his skin and an image of his ribs being exposed popped into his mind.

If someone were to crack his ribs and spread them, Dan would be grateful. It would probably do wonders to help alleviate that vice grip they were currently held in. The world flickered in and out, black, red, grey, and blue cycling around and around.

Voices still eluded him, but high-pitched beeps broke through the muffling silence. They sounded random and quickly became irritating. Dan gasped fitfully as his lungs stuttered, unable to do their job. The lack of oxygen quickly affected his already stressed body, and his heart grew weaker with each irregular beat, the muscle pulsing slower and less effectively until it grew still.

The darkness swallowed Dan and he knew it would never again be light for him. His chest was no longer tight at least.

“We’re losing him!” said one of the paramedics as the heart monitor line fell flat.

“There might be too much damage,” said the other paramedic.

The first shook his head. “There has to be something else wrong. The blood pressure didn’t match the cardiac output. I think…”

He dug into the large bag next to him and took out an imposing looking needle. He pulled the cover off the metal tip and plunged it into the flesh near the stab wound in Dan’s chest. The plunger was slowly pulled back, dark red blood filling up the empty space it created.

“Of course, a cardiac tamponade,” the second said ruefully. They immediately began chest compressions, the blood-slicked surface threatening to slide their hands out of position.

Blood dribbled out of the stab wound with every press, Dan’s life hanging in the balance with every forced, artificial beat.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…

Would it ever beat on its own again?

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #cardiophile writing #writing #heartbeat #dark cardiophile #heart stab #cardiac arrest

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hayanwulf · 7 months ago

Note

IronStrange:

One of them performs CPR on the other.

Fun fact: a defibrillator can’t actually revive a patient who ‘flatlined’.

Shocking, I know. I guess that’s modern media misrepresentation for you.

PS: At the cost of being a lil hypocritical.. the chance of getting an unshockable cardiac arrest (aka flatline or ‘asystole’) in our scenario, and then also surviving it with CPR, is ridiculously, laughably low. So, Stephen really shouldn’t have survived here, or flatlined in the first place... But hey, the movie itself threw realism out the window, so you can’t tell me shit.

The empty mug comically slipped from his grip, meeting the floor in an ear-deafening shatter.

Tony did not hear it, however, not over the pounding of heartbeat in his ears that immediately followed the almost-heart attack he got at the sight of a literal portal on fire inside his workshop, out of which stumbled his ex-fiance who he had not seen for eight months, hands clutching bloody chest, face drained of color and contorted in pain, steps staggering and making him crash against an equipment.

“The hallucinations are getting crazy,” Tony murmured.

“It’s not a hallucination, Boss,” FRIDAY announced, an urgency to her voice, pulling Tony out of his disbelief-induced state of shock — bless his AI. “Doctor Strange needs immediate medical attention! He’s been stabbed on the chest.”

Tony’s heart only lurched further at the last bit, but he forced his feet to move, shoved all thoughts to the back of his mind, beelining straight for his very mortally injured ex-fiance who was now leaning against god knew what, looking up at Tony with wild, terrified eyes.

“Cardiac Tamponade,” Stephen muttered, his voice weak with a bit of tremble to it, as Tony came to his side to carefully support him. “There’s blood in the pericardial—”

“Shut up!” Tony snapped, felt Stephen flinch against him, and immediately cursed himself for lashing out like that for no reason. He just.. god, this was the first time Tony was seeing Stephen after seven goddamn months, and it was to find him injured �� mortally injured — and the first thing Stephen spoke to him was godforsaken diagnosis of how severely close to death he was.

He looked back at the portal once and suppressed a shudder, before shifting his focus back on Stephen to help lead him over to the small infirmary that was built right next to his workshop. “Just.. what the fuck, Stephen?”

Stephen winced, throwing a glance behind his shoulder at the portal, misunderstanding what Tony truly meant. “Sorry, that’s..” He made them pause and waved a hand at the tear in reality behind them.

Tony watched in awe for a moment as the portal quickly shrank and disappeared, remnants of glowing orange dust in the air the only evidence that something had even existed there a moment ago.

“What just—” Tony cut himself off. Not important right now.

He shook his head to dispel all other thoughts and focus solely on Stephen because oh god there was so much blood, Stephen was hurt, Stephen was dying—

“FRIDAY!” He called out, voice wavering with the panic that grew in him with each passing moment as he led Stephen to the adjacent infirmary.

“There is no medical staff at the Compound, Boss..”

“Why!?” Tony asked as his heartbeat spiked at the realization, even though he already knew why.

No one lived in the Compound anymore. All of the staff had been long since dismissed.

As he led Stephen towards the nearest operating table, Tony spared only a brief moment to wonder why, despite there being nobody and nothing in this large establishment, was it that Tony continued to stay here.

He helped Stephen lay flat on the operating table and began to undo.. whatever it was that Stephen was wearing, all the while chanting under his breath, “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this..”

“Tony,” Stephen spoke, grabbing hold of Tony’s wrist and looking him in the eye. “You can, I know it.”

Tony helplessly shook his head because he couldn’t. How could Stephen think that he could?

But, god, there was no time, no choices.

Stephen either had him, or nothing.

Tony felt the exact moment Stephen’s grip on his arm grew weak, saw his eyes flicker as he fought to keep them open.

“I trust you..” Stephen said weakly, and then passed out, his hand going limp over Tony’s.

Tony stared for a moment.

“Boss?”

FRIDAY’s voice pulled him out of his daze. He looked up at the heart graphs, then back at Stephen’s limp body, and then back up at the heart graphs to be absolutely extra sure he hadn’t lost Stephen yet. His mind was nothing but panicked haze and adrenaline, and logic fought emotion as he struggled to simply act, to do something because he was losing Stephen right in front of his eyes and oh god he needed to save him—

“FRIDAY, w-what—” He swallowed as his voice wavered, “what do I do?”

“Boss, you are close to having a panic attack—”

“And he’s close to dying, dammit! What do I do!?”

“He needs a pericardiocentesis.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Just get the needle, second shelf from the top.”

FRIDAY guided him through the surprisingly simple, yet downright horrifying procedure of stabbing a needle straight into Stephen’s heart to drain out the blood stuck in his pericardium, decompressing the pressure on his heart. There was a large stab wound on the left side of his chest. The sight of so much blood — of Stephen’s blood — made Tony feel lightheaded, its suffocating metallic scent tangible in his mouth, tasting like copper, all the while his eyes watched the screens of vitals with sharp attention, witnessing as Stephen’s heartbeat grew weaker and weaker, every digit of drop in the heart rate making dread pool heavier in his stomach, making his gut twist sickeningly.

He was holding Stephen’s delicate, precious life in his hands and god, it was terrifying.

How did you do this every single day? Tony silently asked the man lying unconscious in front of him, the back of his eyes stinging as tears formed in them.

If Stephen died now, here, like this, Tony could never forgive himself.

It was those thoughts that roared loud in his mind, in tandem with the beeping of the heart monitor, as he held onto the needle drawing out a nauseating amount of blood.

Even after most of the clogged blood from the walls had been drained out, Stephen’s heart remained weak, his low heart rate not recovering.

And then it happened, just as he pulled out the needle.

Tony’s entire world came to a halt at that sharp, ear-deafening beep of the heart monitor.

“You need to start CPR, now!” FRIDAY spoke up immediately, voice loud and clear over the shrill beep.

“I—the defibrillat—”

“That won’t work, you have to do CPR!”

Tony didn’t question her. He trusted his babygirl, trusted her to help him save Stephen’s life, and moved up to Stephen’s face, tilting his head up, chin held in his hand.

30 compressions, 2 breaths.

He would not lose Stephen. He would not.

Steadying his resolve as he inhaled a deep breath, he pinched Stephen’s nose and then dipped down to seal their mouths together, before blowing into Stephen’s mouth, watching from the corner of his eye as Stephen’s chest rose. He repeated the action, blowing a second rescue breath into Stephen’s mouth, and then quickly moved to his chest.

Taking care to not place his hands over the stab wound currently sealed with nanites, he pushed down forcibly at Stephen’s chest and set up a fast pace, counting the compressions in his head, acutely aware of his speed as well as the relentless beeping of the heart monitor that continued to echo in the background.

After 30 compressions, he repeated the two rescue breaths, and moved to performing compressions again.

Seven.. eight.. nine..

Tony froze when the incessant beeping of heart monitor stopped, to be replaced by a barely there pulse, the graph displaying a weak heart rhythm that was all over the place.

Tony could’ve cried right then. Maybe he did.

“Don’t stop,” FRIDAY’s voice instructed him, and so he didn’t, continuing with the chest compressions.

Two more cycles passed by the time FRIDAY said, “You can shock him now, Boss.”

Tony didn’t waste another second in fetching the defibrillator. He applied the conductive gel over the two paddles before placing one on the right side of Stephen’s sternum and the other below his left nipple — thank the science gods Stephen’s injury didn’t get in the way of their placement — and let FRIDAY decide the appropriate voltage. He pressed down hard on the paddles, steering clear of any other contact to Stephen’s body as the equipment delivered shock.

The heart rhythm graph reacted immediately, and Tony watched in awe as the entire electrical activity was reset and started producing a much healthier, stable rhythm. The pulse reacted to it, quickly gaining strength.

Tony’s knees nearly buckled from the sheer intensity of relief that washed over him, watching Stephen’s heart gain its strength back right in front of his eyes.

Stephen’s eyes flew open with a start and a gasp, and Tony was immediately by his side, the defibrillator abandoned. He panted, eyes glazed and darting wildly at first, until they slowly regained focus. Tony placed a hand on Stephen’s arm, wanting to help him, wanting to give him something to anchor himself to.

But mostly to reassure his own self that Stephen was still here.

“God, that feels weird in the astral plane,” Stephen murmured, his voice a little raspy, before a weak laugh escaped his lips.

“You think this is— wow.” Stephen was laughing. It hadn’t been five minutes since Tony had pulled this man out of the claws of death and now here he was, laughing. Tony felt his body vibrate, his inside burning up with this infuriating mix of anger and.. and.. ugh! He didn’t know.

Never had he felt something so strong, so nauseatingly gut-churning before.

Christ, was this the anger that Stephen felt every time Tony had looked death in the eyes and walked the other way with a victorious smirk on his lips? Was this the exasperation he had always seen in Rhodey’s face when Tony had dismissed his own near-death experiences? Was this the horror Pepper felt every time, as she watched Tony’s gruesome injuries be patched up by Stephen?

“Tony..?” Stephen called out in a small, uncertain voice, causing Tony to turn back to him. Whatever Stephen found there, it made him flinch. Good. After a second, he tentatively added, “I’m.. sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Tony snapped. “You.. you fucking walk out on me without ever telling anything, not even a message, a note, nothing. A-and the next time I see you, you’re walking out of a wormhole with.. with a stab on your chest, bleeding all over my lab. And you’re sorry. You fucking died, Stephen!”

Tony realized that he was visibly shaking now, his breath coming in hitches as thick tears streamed down his face. He sat himself down on the edge of Stephen’s table, wiping both his hands over his entire face, just trying to collect himself. God, it felt like someone was squeezing his heart trying to make it burst.

What would he have done, had Stephen died here today? Because of his inadequacy, because he didn’t know what to do, how to act fast, how to save the life of his fiance?

A shaky hand landed on his arm, making him remove his hands from his face to turn and look down at Stephen.

His ex-fiance had a remorseful look on his face as he interlocked their fingers.

“You did an amazing job, Tony. You saved me.”

Some of Tony’s tense energy melted, and he exhaled a shaky breath with closed eyes.

Stephen was alive. Stephen was here. Because Tony had managed to save him.

“Thank you,” Stephen added after a moment.

Tony opened his eyes and glanced at Stephen from the corner of his eye. “Fuck you.”

He felt it more than heard when Stephen’s chest rumbled with a laugh, and Stephen immediately winced.

Right, the wound must hurt like a bitch.

“Hold on,” Tony said and went to fetch a fresh needle and a vial of painkiller.

A minute later, he unceremoniously dumped the used needle on the appropriate bin as he spoke, “So what’s up with the glowing wormholes and your LARP wizard costume?” He leaned himself against an equipment near Stephen’s table, who was now sitting upright, putting the said LARP costume back on. “Or do we wanna talk about who wanted to roleplay too realistic murder mystery with you? Oh, I have a better idea. How about we start from where the hell did you fuck off to in Nepal?”

Stephen winced, and this time it wasn’t from the physical pain. “I shouldn’t have left you like that?”

“Yeah? Well, good thing that I’m used to being left behind by the people I trust,” Tony spoke, voice laced with venom. A memory flashed in his mind. Blood tainting the white of snow, the feel of metal growing lethally cold all around his body, the dead weight of a dead arc reactor sitting over his chest.

He suppressed a shiver, shoving the memory away.

Stephen, of course, knew nothing of the said memory, and a hint of confusion mixed with hurt flashed over his features. “I.. I’m really sorry, Tony. I have to go.”

Tony blinked, doing a double take of what he’d just heard. “I’m sorry, did you just say that you have to go?”

“Yes.”

“Where!?” Tony snapped, not quite able to hide the irritation in his voice.

Stephen bit his lower lip, expression twisting in contemplation, clearly weighing his options about what he wanted to tell Tony. He then sighed and looked up at Tony.

Tony didn’t know what answer he had expected to hear.

‘I moved on.’ ‘I have another life now, one without you.’ ‘Stop trying to follow me.’

But what he got wasn’t something he’d have expected to hear in a thousand years.

“I was learning magic in Nepal.”

It left him staring dumbfounded, simply trying to grasp what he was hearing.

Stephen sighed again, averting his eyes. “You saw the portal, right?”

Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling too dry as a new, terrifying kind of realization dawned on him. “Yeah.”

Stephen closed his eyes. “There are.. more like us. Good and bad. And the bad ones are going to try to destroy this world, with magic.” He got off the table then, getting on his feet, and stood a foot away from Tony, looking him in the eyes. “I have to go, Tony.”

Too much. This was all too much. First he watched Stephen stumble out of the goddamn portal, watched him die on the table, resuscitated him.. now he was learning that..

Magic.

Stephen was magic.

He’d been learning magic on Nepal, all this time, while Tony was left fumbling alone trying to gather even the tiniest scrap of information on this man, just enough to know that he was fine, that he was alive.

Tony was left with an odd mix of unadulterated fury and debilitating fear bubbling beneath his skin.

Hesitantly, Stephen reached out and took one of Tony’s hands in his shaky grip, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on the back on his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said one last time and let go of Tony’s hand, turning to walk away.

Tony caught his arm before he had fully turned, making him pause and look back at Tony.

“I’m coming too,” Tony declared, letting his determination shine in his tear-streaked eyes.

Stephen slowly shook his head. “There will be magic, Tony.”

Tony spread his arms, summoning Mark XLVII, which flew into the infirmary from his workshop, opened up and quickly wrapped itself around Tony’s body in one quick, flawless motion, only leaving his head uncovered. He could see it in Stephen’s awestruck expression that he was impressed by its smoothness and elegance.

“I’m coming,” Tony repeated, “and that’s final.”

Coming because he would not back down in the face of magic. Coming because he had a duty to this world.

Coming because he would not let Stephen walk into danger all by himself.

Stephen looked at him from one eye to the other, swallowed, and nodded once.

“Close your eyes, I have to open a portal.”

Tony did, trusting Stephen.

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #fic #mcu fanfiction #hayans tumblr shorts #cpr #medical emergency #let it be known that hayan hates medical shit with a burning passion #this was so worth it though #also apparently hayan doesnt understand the concept of drabbles #im a lost cause yall #still so worth it

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justkidneying · 7 months ago

Text

Shock

SHOCK! Everyone loves writing about it, so we're gonna talk about it.

What is shock? Shock is a condition in which the blood flow in your body is no longer able to sustain the function of critical organs. We call this hypoperfusion. Blood carries a lot of stuff, but most importantly, it carries oxygen. When your tissues don't have oxygen, they're hypoxic. If they're hypoxic for long enough, they die.

What does shock look like? The patient might have hypotension, syncope (fainting), chest pain, abdominal pain, cool fingers/toes, shortness of breath, and/or altered mental status (I know you guys love that last one, lol).

What are the stages of shock? Trigger Insult -> Compensated Shock -> Uncompensated Shock -> Irreversible Shock (organ failure) -> Death

Not all of those stages are obvious in every patient, but that is the general progression. So, what does that all mean? It means that first, something is going to happen (trigger insult). This could be trauma, sepsis, anaphylaxis, heart attack, etc. Something has gone wrong with the normal blood circulation (we'll talk about what in a moment).

Next, the body will compensate to maintain perfusion and keep blood pressure normal. This can cause an increase in heart rate, constriction of blood vessels, rapid breathing, stress, and cool extremities.

When the body can no longer compensate, shit goes wrong. Mechanisms are failing, blood pressure is falling, and the organs are in dysfunction. You may see confusion, syncope, weak pulses, and metabolic acidosis (that's actually deadly but not as fun to write about, lmao).

Finally, when shit has gone very, very wrong, you get organ failure. If there were no interventions in the previous stages, the organs will begin to shut down. Heart rate, blood pressure, and respiratory rate will freefall. The patient will no longer respond to interventions. The nervous system's electrical activity will fade, and the patient will go into a comatose state. Then they die.

The Five Types of Shock

Distributive: this is from the dilation of vessels, which drops the blood pressure to unacceptable levels. This can be do to anaphylaxis, sepsis (bacterial infection), or adrenal crisis. One thing to note with this type is that the skin at the extremities will be warm, not cold.

Cardiogenic: the heart is not working correctly. This can be do to heart disease, heart attack, arrhythmia, etc. This leads to low cardiac output but constricted peripheral vessels. This may present with pulmonary edema.

Hypovolemic: this is from low blood volume. This can be due to hemorrhaging, severe vomiting (or, on the other end, pissing out your butt), or severe dehydration. The patient will have cold extremities and may be pale. Usually, this type of shock is easy to spot because there's either blood everywhere or some other type of trauma causing internal bleeding.

Neurogenic: this is due to nervous system failure from injury to the brain or spinal cord. Note that this type of shock does not have a fast heart rate. Since the autonomic nervous system is non-functioning, there is no response mounted to the shock.

Obstructive: this is a blockage of circulation to the heart. There are two types, pulmonary and structural. Pulmonary is due to increased pulmonary circulation resistance. This can be due to a tension pneumothorax or a collapsed lung. Structural is due to resistance in the heart, such as with cardiac tamponade (fluid in the pericardial space). This case of shock requires you to realized that there is clinically a right and left heart, as the blockage of either side will result in vastly different symptoms and require different treatment.

How do you treat shock? For treatment, it really depends on the type of shock. For all types (except that caused by pulmonary edema), you should give the patient a saline IV to increase blood pressure and volume. Then, it really depends on the case as to what you do next. For distributive shock, you want to give the patient vasoconstrictors (like norepinephrine or vasopressin). For cardiogenic shock, give them inotropes (to increase cardiac output). For hypovolemic shock, fix whatever was torn up and give them IV fluids. For neurogenic shock, you can give fluids and vasoconstrictors. For obstructive, fix whatever is wrong, like breaking a clot or draining the pleural cavity.

Okay, I hope this is a good guide. I think hypovolemic and distributive shock would probably be the most fun to write about, but I mean you could probably make any of these pretty interesting (except obstructive, maybe). Let me know if you have any questions in the notes (is that what the reply thing is?? or are they called comments??)

#medicine #med student #medical school #med school #med studyblr #whump writing #hospital whump #hemorrhagic shock #shock #trauma #injury

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kk095 · 1 year ago

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Katie in Trauma

Katie was 28 years old, standing at 5’9 with a thick, sturdy build with wavy brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, a pretty face, thick thighs, and large, perky, natural breasts. Katie was from South Carolina, and was the epitome of a cute country girl, talking with a sweet southern drawl. Katie had lived out on the outskirts of town on a larger plot of land her family owned, and enjoyed riding horses.

Yesterday while riding one of her horses, she was ejected from the horse while riding, her thick frame being tossed effortlessly by the naturally strong animal. Katie had landed hard on the ground, hearing a loud snap in her right leg. Katie immediately tried to get up, but felt extreme pain in her right leg when she tried to put pressure on it, letting out a loud yelp and cry. The horse, which was still nearby, became spooked, and kicked Katie in the chest rather hard with its two back legs before scurrying off to who knows where. Katie felt something pop in her chest, and a deep, tearing pain started to develop inside her chest. She also felt a sharp pain whenever she inhaled. Due to the isolation of the area Katie was in, it took her quite awhile to get ahold of anyone she knew, let alone EMS.

With that said, Katie had arrived at the emergency department much later than she ideally should have. Katie now laid on the trauma room table underneath the harsh, fluorescent overhead light. She was in a c-collar on a backboard, stripped down to just her bra and matching underwear, her brown hair in a messy ponytail. Her right thigh was bruised and discolored, being splinted by EMS. She was absolutely terrified, on the verge of tears, taking rapid shallow breaths. Her eyes scanned the room full of complete strangers who barked orders and medical jargon at one another. The heart monitors were chirping loud and fast, creating a bit of anxiety for Katie. Katie had never experienced the level of pain she was in. Her right leg was very sore and sensitive, with a bit of throbbing. The tearing pain in her chest was 100 times worse than it was at the onset of the accident, and she still felt a sharp pain whenever she inhaled. The adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain intensified further. Katie started to cry hysterically, letting the pain and fear overwhelm her.

Dr Lindsay and Dr Sarah were in charge of Katie’s care, assisted by our usual team of nurses. Katie’s blood pressure was dangerously low and continuing to drop rapidly, and her heart rate was elevated. Katie’s bra was snipped off, allowing her big, perky breasts to spill out. This revealed a huge bruise in between her breasts in the center of her chest. Dr Lindsay lowered her stethoscope onto Katie’s bare chest and auscultated her heart and lungs. “muffled heart sounds, diminished breath sounds left side.” Lindsay informs Dr Sarah. With those findings on auscultation, the two doctors decided to follow up with a chest x-ray and an echocardiogram. The chest x ray displayed some bruising and swelling in the sternum along with some of her ribs, but couldn’t conclusively prove if there were or weren’t any fractures. The chest x ray also showed that there was a left sided tension pneumothorax with slight tracheal deviation. The echocardiogram was performed moments later, revealing cardiac tamponade with a possible cardiac chamber injury. “ok, let’s do a chest tube then a pericardiocentesis and go from there.” Dr Sarah decided, Lindsay nodding in agreement. While the chest tube tray was being set up, Katie cried hysterically. “I’m so scared… I don’t wanna die…” she moaned to nurse Nancy. “it’s ok sweetie, you’re in good hands.” Nancy replies in a soothing, reassuring tone, stroking the young lady’s hair a bit. “Don’t let me die…” Katie cried, squeezing nurse Nancy’s hand.

The chest tube tray was set up, and the doctors got things going. The left side of Katie’s rib cage was sterilized with antiseptic, and Lindsay picked up the scalpel. Dr Lindsay made a 1 inch cut in between Katie’s 4th and 5th ribs. Katie felt the scalpel’s every move, moaning and crying loudly, begging the trauma team to stop. The underlying fat and tissue was incised by Dr Lindsay, exposing the intercostal muscles. Lindsay used a large clamp to spread the intercostal muscles, then stuck her index finger inside the incision area to penetrate the pleura, and create an opening for the tube that was soon to be inserted. Lindsay clamped off the proximal end of the chest tube, and jammed it inside the small, 1 inch incision. Katie yelped and screamed, wincing in pain from the quick, but brutal procedure. When the tube reaches the correct location, air hissed out of the tube, and reestablished normal activity within the left lung. The sharp pain Katie was experiencing while breathing instantly went away.

After the chest tube placement, the next order of business was the pericardiocentesis. The large needle for the procedure was picked up by Dr Sarah, and immediately noticed by Katie. Her eyes widened, looking at the large, thin needle. “no way! Nuh uh! You’re not sticking that in me!” a terrified Katie said to Dr Sarah. “It’s gonna help you a lot! We promise it won’t hurt as bad as the last thing we did.” Dr Sarah replied, trying to reason with her. “no way! Do something different! You’re not poking me with that!” a terrified Katie replied. Dr Sarah was able to talk Katie off the ledge a bit, and started the procedure. The front of Katie’s chest was sterilized once again, and the ultrasound wand was placed over Katie’s heart to help guide Sarah during the procedure. Dr Sarah always preferred the parasternal approach for pericardiocentesis, even though most doctors nowadays use the apical approach. Sarah took the long, thin needle and inserted it in the 6th intercostal space at the left sternal border by the cardiac notch of the left lung. The needle was inserted at a 90 degree angle because this poses a lower risk of damaging the nerves and blood vessels in between the ribs. Katie wasn’t in a ton of pain during the procedure. She felt the pressure of the needle while it made its way into her chest cavity, along with a quick little pinch here and there. When the needle reached the correct depth, the needle was inserted through the pericardium, and the catheter was attached to the back of the needle. Dr Sarah then pulled the plunger on the needle, removing the excess blood in the pericardial sac. The catheter quickly filled up with 200ML of blood. Dr Sarah swapped the catheter out so additional blood could be drained. A few drops of blood started to get in Katie’s chest after the 2nd catheter became quickly overfilled with blood. “ok, 400ML of blood that quick is a bit much. I’m thinking we page the OR.” Dr Sarah says to Lindsay. The needle was removed from Katie’s chest, and the procedure concluded.

Before the team had the opportunity to contact the OR, Katie’s blood pressure began to take a nosedive, and she began to drift in and out of consciousness. “katie? Stay with us sweetie!” nurse Nancy said, doing a firm sternal rub. Katie’s eyes opened slightly, and tried to mumble something. Katie then began taking a few gasps, before coughing up a large amount of blood. Katie spit up a large amount of blood almost immediately after, and let out a calm exhale. Katie’s eyes were half open, glazed over, her mouth agape. Due to the quick change of events, it was decided that Katie would be intubated. An ET tube was navigated into her airway, being held in place with a blue tube holder once at the correct depth.

Within a minute or two after intubation, Katie had gone into cardiac arrest. Deep , violent chest compressions were started on Katie. Her big, perky tits jiggled around. Her chest caved in, and her flabby belly bounced outwards from the residual force the compressions. Epinephrine and atropine were injected into her IV line, trying to obtain a shockable rhythm since PEA was on the monitors. After the first dose of meds and first handful of minutes worth of chest compressions failed to restart her heart, Dr Lindsay made the decision to perform a thoracotomy on Katie. Betadine was splashed across Katie’s chest, staining it a brownish orangey color. A quick, crude incision was made in the 5th intercostal space beginning just to the left of the sternum, extended laterally across her chest, underneath her left breast, and ultimately ended up a few inches shy of her left armpit. The underlying tissue was quickly dissected and incised, creating an opening for the rib spreader. Next up, the finochietto rib spreader was placed into the large, fresh gash in Katie’s chest. The knob on the spreader was turned, forcefully prying her ribs apart. A popping and cracking sound filled the room in the moments her chest was being opened.

Once Katie’s chest was opened adequately, there was a large rush of blood. The wet slurping sound from the suction tube was heard while the team tried to create a good line of sight. While suction continued, Dr Lindsay placed a vascular clamp on the descending portion of the aorta near Katie’s diaphragm. A few additional attempts were needed to create a good line of sight. After a good view of the thoracic anatomy was obtained, a vertical incision was made in the thin, fibrous pericardium. Thick, gooey, coagulated blood exited the pericardial sac, having to be suctioned out. There was a large amount of clotted blood trapped inside the pericardium which took an additional 3 minutes to clear out all the way. Next, the pericardium was peeled back, and Katie’s boggy, fibrillating heart was delivered. Lindsay wrapped her hands around Katie’s heart, feeling it slide and squirm around in her gloved hands. Lindsay squeezed hard and vigorously, sending much needed blood throughout Katie’s dying body. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was made from the internal massage the was being performed. Dr Lindsay massaged Katie’s heart for several minutes, and another dose of drugs were given, but nothing had changed.

Lindsay wanted to try her luck with the internal paddles next. The large, spoon shaped paddles were charged to 20 joules, lowered into Katie’s chest around her weakly fidgeting heart, and the first shock was delivered. A dull, muted thunk filled the room. Katie’s torso flopped abruptly before falling back limp. The ,20 joules shock had failed to change the situation, so another shock was delivered moments later at 30 joules. Katie’s torso jolted violently, her big tits shaking in response to the stronger dose of electricity. There still wasn’t any change after that second shock, so a third one was delivered moments later, also at 30 joules. A dull, wet thump was heard, followed by the heart monitors alarming loudly while Katie’s blue eyes remained open, staring up above lifelessly. Shock #3 didn’t do the trick either, so Lindsay upped the ante, delivering a fourth shock at 40 joules. Katie’s toes curled at the far end of the table, showing off the neon pink nail polish on her toes, along with the thick, soft, meaty wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 12 feet. V-fib was still winning the battle, so Lindsay shocked again at 40 joules, but was once again unsuccessful. The electric whirring of the internal paddles charging was heard, followed by a dull, wet thunk. Katie’s body jolted sharply on the table, but her heart continued fluttering erratically.

After 3 more unsuccessful shocks, Katie had gone into PEA, so meds were pushed into her IV line. Lindsay forcefully reached back into Katie’s chest and began vigorously massaging her heart. Lindsay could feel Katie’s strong heart twitching and fluttering in her hands. Lindsay squeezed and squeezed, doing anything and everything to restart Katie’s heart. After an additional 7 minutes worth of efforts, Katie had converted back to v-fib. Lindsay charged the paddles to 40, lowered them back around Katie’s heart, and delivered the next shock. Katie’s feet kicked around and slammed back down at the far end of the table, showing off the thick, soft wrinkles throughout her soles once again. The paddles were readied again, and another unsuccessful shock was delivered. Followed by another…and another…and another, and so on.

Ultimately, Dr Lindsay shocked Katie an additional 8 times with the internal paddles and maxed her out on drugs. At the 33 minute mark of the code, it was noted that Katie’s pupils were fixed and dilated. At that point, the trauma team ceased their efforts, calling time of death on Katie at 8:27pm while she was still in v-fib. The ambu bag was detached from the ET tube and the chirping, beeping, alarming monitors were turned off. The EKG electrodes were taken off of Katie’s chest, and a blue surgical drape was placed over the thoracotomy site, hiding Katie’s heart as it fired off its last few impulses. A cover was placed over Katie’s body, concealing the terrified gaze on her face. A toe tag was placed on the big toe of her left foot, which dangled against her big, wrinkly soles, signifying a tragic end to Katie’s time in our emergency department.

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year ago

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So this is for writing, how fast do you bleed out from a ruptured organ? Is it seconds or minutes or hours or even days? What do you feel and what should someone do in said situation

Oh honey, that depends entirely on the organ.

Ruptured lung? Depends on the amount of damage, but a pneumothorax is more likely than a hemothorax. And that’ll crush your organs and asphyxiate you depending on severity.

Ruptured heart? Yeah, uh, bye bye. Ask me about cardiac tamponade.

Ruptured spleen? You’ll bleed out fairly quickly, but not immediately. Also spleens tear like tissue paper. 😒 I have a beef with them.

Ruptured liver? Please no. They’re such vascular organs. Please no.

Ruptured bowel? You won’t die immediately but boy will you get an infection. And probably lead to sepsis and massive organ dysfunction and eventually dying.

Ruptured kidneys? Not the beans! They do so much for you, a retroperitoneal bleed might take a few days to catch or kill.

So yeah. It depends. :) But any injury can be minor and just kind of… leak. Until it becomes a bigger problem.

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #Skye talks medical stuff #the amount of times I’ve had trauma patients with ruptured spleens I swear #It’s a dumb organ #Such a drama queen organ #You sneeze on it and it squeaks and explodes

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 9 months ago

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Hello! What happens biologically (anatomically) when a gallifreyan (time lord?) Is partially shot by a dalek?

(For clarity: what happened internally/biologically to the doctor when he was shot by a dalek in The Stolen Earth?)

What happens anatomically when a Gallifreyan/Time Lord is partially shot by a Dalek?

Ah, emergency medicine! My speciality! Thank you!

All Dalek shots will differ in their nature - different weapons, different ways to get shot, different places to get shot - so that has to be on a case-by-case basis, but we can definitely take a look at the specific example mentioned.

It's a little unclear exactly where the path of the shot was, so for this it's assumed it coasts along the ribs and ends just under the sternum on a straight, constant angle.

💥 Entry Point and Initial Damage

The Dalek energy blast first made contact with the Doctor’s torso, glancing from the mid-low left costal region (around the 7th to 8th rib ... ish). Upon contact, the energy blast:

Burnt through the skin and subcutaneous tissues, cauterising the wound instantly and preventing external bleeding. This likely caused immediate necrosis and damage to nerve endings.

Fractured and maybe partially vaporised the ribs at the point of impact, creating a concussive shockwave that propagated through the thoracic cavity, which might have caused the ribs to fracture inwards and potentially puncture a lung.

🔥 Internal Penetration and Pathway

The blast then traversed along the chest, following a path just below the sternum (breastbone). The energy blast then:

Damaged the intercostal muscles and nerves, causing immediate breathing difficulties and partial paralysis of the chest wall muscles. Gallifreyans have a lot of biological getouts, but this would've restricted the Doctor's ability to breathe when his lung probably couldn't expand/contract properly.

May have slightly penetrated the lower lobe of the left lung, causing pulmonary contusions (bruising) and possible alveolar rupture or a pneumothorax (if the ribs didn't do it already), leading to compromised gas exchange and hypoxia.

❤️ Heart(s) and Circulatory System

The close proximity to the sternum means the blast was darn close to the Doctor’s hearts, possibly causing:

Acute pericardial effusion (fluid buildup around the hearts) due to the shockwave and thermal effects, leading to very fast cardiac tamponade (compression of the heart due to fluid build-up).

Potential contusion to the left heart, specifically the left ventricle, causing a decrease in cardiac output, leading to the disruption of electrical conductivity. That translates to irregular heartbeats at best. This could have been the reason why he collapsed and stayed down, because his blood pressure would've immediately gone through the floor.

🌡️ Shockwave and Secondary Effects

The energy blast created a shockwave that propelled merrily through the Doctor’s body, exacerbating internal damage through kinetic transfer, and resulting in:

Probable spinal shock, temporarily disrupting neural signals to the legs and resulting in partial loss of function and control of the lower limbs.

Maybe damage to the diaphragm, causing yet more breathing problems and possibly spasms when we weren't looking.

Microtears in blood vessels, leading to internal bleeding.

Extended damage to the abdominal organs: The shockwave may extend into the abdominal cavity, causing bruising or mild trauma to other internal organs.

⚡ Pain and Neural Response

Dalek weapons are notorious for inflicting maximum pain:

The energy discharge damages nerve endings, causing excruciating pain radiating from the point of impact.

The intense pain triggers a massive release of stress hormones (like adrenaline), which can cause symptoms such as sweating, increased hearts rate, and further difficulty breathing.

⚠️ Shock Response

Gallifreyans bodies are quite hardy, but Daleks have been shooting them for a while, now. The Doctor's body would've attempted to compensate for the injury, but the extent of damage overwhelmed these mechanisms.

The Doctor likely went into a state of physical shock very, very quickly.

🏫 So ...

The combination of direct damage from the Dalek blast, secondary shockwave effects, and the resultant pain and physiological responses culminate in a pretty instant death, even though it was a 'nick'. All this of course is theoretical.

Medical Guides These are all practical guides to assessing and treating a Gallifreyan in an emergency.

📓|⚕️Gallifreyan CPR: Guide for reviving a Gallifreyan in cardiac arrest. [Update due]

📓|⚕️Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System (GASS): Guide for assessing vital signs.

📓|⚕️ABCDE Assessment: Guide for quickly assessing and treating a sick Gallifreyan. [Update due]

📓|⚕️Sepsis Emergency Response (SER): Guide for identifying and treating sepsis. [Update due]

📓|⚕️Gallifreyan Pyrexia: Guide for assessment and treatment of fevers in Gallifreyans. [Update due]

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 2 years ago

Text

Amelia Shepherd - God complex

originally posted on my wattpad @MayaBishop_is_myWife

Pairing: Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader

Fluff

Word count: 1.3k

!!not proofread!!

also don't question the timeline of this it's all over the place w the characters in the actual series

(reader is head of cardio at grey sloan)

Summary: Teddy returns to the hospital and get an update from Bailey and Meredith about how things work and finds out reader and Amelia are dating.

Meredith POV:

"Okay so, you need updating in anything else, because that's all the new staff and equipment we have since you were last here?" Bailey, me and Teddy were all sitting round meeting table going over all the things Teddy needs to know before going back into the hospital since it had been quite a few years.

"Okay so Derek has a sister, who's also your sister and then you found out you had another sister from your mom and the chief is her dad..?"

"Yes, basically. Was that the only thing you actually remembered?"

"No, of course not I got the whole thing but that part just really stuck out to me."

"It stuck out to all of us." Bailey said which caused us all to laugh a bit.

"Okay but seriously, this place always, always, has drama so cmon ladies give me the tea!" I was about to respond when all of our pagers went off.

"We'll duty calls, but catch me after and I'll fill you in." We both had shit eating grins on our faces as we all ran down to the ER and Bailey just rolled her eyes calling us children.

Time skip to the ER

Teddy POV:

"We got a multi-vehicle collision coming in I need all hands on deck here people!" I yelled as I walked into the ambulance bay and waited for them to come in. All the attendants and interns were out there waiting as well so I took some time to take in all the new faces.

As I was looking round a certain pair caught me eye, two attendings slightly secluded from everyone else, whispering to each other and in their own little world, smiling the biggest smiles I've seen in a while. I recognised them both as Dr Shepherd and Dr Y/l/n. Head of neurosurgery and head of Cardiothoracic surgery. I assumed they were friends and moved my attention from them as the ambulance was pulling in.

"56 year old male, major head injury, penetrating chest wound, possible cardiac tamponade, crush injuries to the torso and both legs broken!" Yelled out the paramedic.

"Okay, Shepherd, Y/l/n and Torres I need you guys with me on this one!" I called out and heard the doctors running behind me. We made it into trauma one and started saving this man.

Time skip to once they're in surgery, reader is fixing heart, Amelia is fixing the brain injury, Callie is doing the legs and Teddy is fixing the crush injuries

"Quite a crowded OR for your first day back Teddy huh?" Callie said to me.

"Yeah, it is. But you know, I think I prefer it like this in the first day back because now I can get all the updates on the hospital drama." All three women laughed and then Amelia piped up "Alex and Jo got married."

"Oh my god, no way!"

"You should see them they're so adorable together, Alex really grew up and became a good man." Callie said.

"Yeah I can tell, aw that's so sweet I'm happy for them both."

"Oh, did you hear about Amelia absolutely crushing Derek in her presentation on why she should be head of neuro and not him?" Callie added.

"No, I did not hear, please do tell."

Amelia POV:

Callie is talking about how my speech was so good and blah blah but I just can't stop looking at my gorgeous girlfriend. She's so cute in her scrub hat, it's blue and had little yellow ducks on it, and she's got her concentrated face in which makes it even more adorable.

"Amelia..? Amelia.., Dr Shepherd!?" Callie said pulling me out my thoughts. "Huh, wha- oh yeah, uhm thank you, really thanks means a lot." I stammered, embarrassed I had been caught staring. I knew I had been see. because before I looked at Callie she winked at me and I could just tell under that mask she a shit eating grin plastered in her face.

"Mmhhmmm." Callie said very over-dramatically.

"Shut up." I mumbled, Callie just laughed and carried on her little gossip session with Teddy. By this point I had finished my part of the surgery so I was scrubbing out but before I left I went over to y/n which caused Callie and Teddy to slow and quiet down their chat just a little bit so they could see what was going to happen.

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist and put my head in her shoulder no one said anything A: because they were all scared of us and B: because she was almost finished anyway, just suturing the guy back together. "Hey once you're done closing wanna go get some coffee?" I asked her casually. "I'd love to." she leaned back into me slightly as she had just finished the last stitch to close the man up. "Hey, how your knee?" I asked her. Y/n injured her knee while on a run so it's a little painful for her to stand for too long. "No I'm fine, don't worry." At this point she had taken off her gown and gloves and we walked out to the scrubbing area and started washing our hands. Once we were done we walked out to the coffee cart and got some.

On the way back we saw Callie, Meredith, Maggie, Bailey, Teddy, Alex, Jo and Arizona in the attending's lounge and decided to go and

join them. When we're about to go in we heard Meredith say something about us being together and then Teddy said "Yeah I kinda guessed that one but are they not like, insufferable? Not because of PDA but because let's be honest out all the surgeons here cardio and neuro, especially if they're head of the department which both of them are, they're both the most likely to have a major god complex surely?" We were broth a bit taken aback when we heard this so decided to ease drop a little longer. "No actually you'd be surprised, they balance each other out perfectly and they're adorable so it's like a win win, they keep each other from screaming at interns and thinking their better than everyone and that they can do anything and we get a cute couple." Everyone in the room laughed at that and we were both happy that Meredith jumped to our defence immediately. She is Amelia's sister but she is like my sister as well. After that we decided to go in.

"Hey guys." and "Hello" were said from every angle as we walked in. After that we kinda just carried on with updating Teddy and general conversation amongst all of us.

As it got later in the evening (the surgery took up most of the shift) y/n started to get a little tired so instinctively she wrapped her arms around me and put her head in the crook of my neck. "You okay there?" I ask her and just get a tired hum in response. At this point hushed conversation is still going on but most attention is on us as people started teasing us for being "so sweet".

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." I said in response to all the teasing. "Can we go home now? Shifts over." I hear my girlfriend say, her voice slightly muffled because of her head being nestles into my neck. "Yeah cmon let's go home." We bid everyone a good night and headed home to a night full of cuddles and movies.

#amelia shepherd #wlw #wlw fanfic #sapphic #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfiction #lesbian pride #lesbian #wlw pride #amelia shepard #amelia shepard x reader

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sooniessoulmate · 10 months ago

Text

𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝚌𝚑.𝟷𝟹 - 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝟶𝚝𝟾

♥️𝚌𝚑.𝟷𝟸♠️ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚌𝚑.𝟷𝟺♣️

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟹 - 𝚡𝚘𝚡𝚘 - 𝚓.𝚠

The crew followed behind the ambulance that took Wooyoung to the hospital, not fully aware of how dire the situation was.

Seonghwa parked his car behind the ambulance, trying to follow them inside as they pushed the gurney containing the unconscious Wooyoung, but security wouldn’t allow him to proceed.

“What the fuck,” Seonghwa snarled with tears in his eyes, “that’s my brother.”

“I’m sorry sir,” the security guard said. “Medical staff is only allowed beyond this point.”

Seonghwa reached inside his jacket, placing his hand on the butt of his gun. Jongho grabbed his arm before he could expose it. “Come on, let’s go in the other way,” he said, pulling Seonghwa towards the other entrance.

Seonghwa gathered his composure and led everyone inside the other entrance. He walked up to the reception desk, explaining their situation and she directed them where to go.

They took an elevator to the fifth floor, walked down a solemn hallway and found seats in an empty waiting room.

Seonghwa looked at Y/N with tears in his eyes, “this is all your fault,” he snarled.

“My fault?” she gasped. “How is this my fault?”

“He was perfectly fine until he was alone with YOU,” Seonghwa growled. “If he doesn’t survive this, neither will you.”

“I don’t think Y/N did anything to him,” Mingi said.

“He got injured in Thailand,” San sighed. “I just didn’t realize the severity of it.”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it,” Seonghwa snapped.

“I didn’t think it was serious,” San yelled. “Look, you know I would never let anything bad come to Woo on purpose and if i thought it was serious i would have said something, damn it”

“He did look awfully pale,” Mingi sighed.

San looked at Y/N, “what exactly happened with Woo? What did he say?”

“He came into the room, woke me up, saw my tattoo, got mad, and went to leave the room. As he was leaving he grabbed his chest and fell to the floor,” Y/N explained.

“Why would he get pissed about your arm? That’s hot,” Mingi asked, confused.

Y/N glared at Seonghwa “not my…”

“You know how he gets,” Seonghwa interrupted. “It doesn’t take much to set him off sometimes.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, “yea guess he’s just temperamental.”

After a few hours, a doctor entered the waiting room in full scrubs.

Seonghwa stood up, panicked, “is Wooyoung ok?”

“We have him stabled at the moment. It appears his ventilation was affected by pneumothorax. Which his cardiac output was highly affected by a reduction in circulating blood volume secondary to hemorrhage and by cardiac tamponade,” the dr explained.

Seonghwa stared with confusion written all over his face. Yeosang stood up and said “so basically his lung was punctured?”

“Correct,” the dr nodded. “We managed to close the wounds up and replaced the blood that was lost, now it’s just a waiting game.”

“Can we see him?” Y/N asked as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Yes two at a time, may go in,” the dr informed.

“Thank you, doctor,” Seonghwa said.

The dr nodded in response before exiting the waiting room.

Seonghwa looked at Y/N, “come on,” he ordered walking down the hall to go into Wooyoung’s room, she followed silently behind.

They entered the hospital room, Wooyoung was lying in the line bed, with all sorts of wires and tubes coming out of his body.

“Oh my god, Woo,” Y/N cried, running over and grabbing his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Seonghwa walked behind Y/N, gently rubbing her back, “he’s gonna survive this. Right, Woo? You’re not gonna let those fuckers get the best of you, are you?”

She turned her head to look up at Seonghwa and saw a tear stream down his cheek, “he has to wake up…he just has to.”

They sat in silence with Wooyoung for a few minutes before Seonghwa spoke again, “we should let the others come in too, then you can come back in.”

Y/N nodded without speaking, stood up and walked towards the door. Before she could exit the room, Seonghwa grabbed her arm pulling her back towards him.

“I saw what you did for me the night I was drunk,” he announced.

“How did you see that,” she asked, staring at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact.

“I record everything that happens in my bedroom,” Seonghwa smirked as he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You took care of me the way a wife would take care of her husband.”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Y/N argued.

“YOU DID,” Seonghwa growled. “I appreciate it and that’s why I put my name on you because one day you will be mine. And only mine.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s, gently placing a hand on her cheek and the other behind her head.

She moved her hands onto his chest and pushed him away, “are you fucking kidding me?” She snarled as a red glint flashed through her eyes. “Wooyoung is lying unconscious right there and you think now is a good time to do this?!”

“There’s no time better than the present,” Seonghwa smiled. “And I figured you deserve an explanation.”

“Wooyoung hates me now because of you. He saw your name and now he thinks that we fucked. If this is how you conduct yourself in life, I will never be yours. I hate you Park Seonghwa!”

“Don’t be like this,” he sighed. “Woo will get over this. I promise. Once I explain the situation everything will be fine.”

“Well you might not get the chance to explain it to him,” Y/N snapped, storming out of the hospital room.

She walked down towards the waiting room but before entering, she decided to go find some vending machines to purchase a drink. She walked down another solemn hallway. As she was passing what appeared to be an empty room, she felt a hand on her arm forcefully pulling her inside the room. Frightened, she looked up and saw Yunho smiling at her. His smile had an eerie appeal that sent mixed emotions.

“Oh my god, Yunho, you startled me,” Y/N gasped, grabbing her chest.

“There is so much death in this hospital. I just found a room filled with dead bodies,” Yunho smiled. “Do you want to see it?”

“No I'm good,” she shook her head.

“I heard Hongjoong talking to San about some tattoo you have that probably pissed Wooyoung off,” Yunho announced. “I want to see it.”

Y/N lifted her shirt to expose Seonghwas name on her stomach. Yunho smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his switchblade.

“I could cut that off for you, if you want,” he offered.

Yn dropped her shirt, “no it’s ok.”

“Are you sure,” Yunho asked. “It wouldn’t be very difficult.”

“I’m ok,” she stated.

“You look very pretty when you cry,” Yunho whispered.

“Umm thank you,” Y/N said, scrunching her nose. “…I think”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” Yunho wondered as he reached out to place a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Should I be?” She asked.

“I’d only hurt you if you wanted me to,” Yunho announced, “or by accident. Sometimes I lose control but never on purpose. So you don’t have to be scared.”

“Ok,” Y/N nodded.

“All this death really gets me excited,” Yunho proclaimed.

He grabbed her hand, placing it on the bulge in his pants with a smirk on his face, “you should help me out with this.”

Y/N stared dumbfounded, searching for the appropriate response in this situation as Yunho leaned towards her firmly pressing his lips against hers.

She put her hands on his chest, shoving him away, “stop this,” she ordered. “I need to get back to Wooyoung.”

She quickly turned and exited the empty hospital room before Yunho had time to respond. She walked down the hall looking for a vending machine or store to purchase a drink. She smiled when came to a room containing multiple vending machines. She dug in her pockets, looking for money, unsuccessfully.

“Damn it,” Y/N said to herself before turning to go back to the waiting room.

“Do you need money?” Hongjoong asked, holding a five dollar bill out.

“Yes please,” she sighed, reaching her hand out to grab the money.

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong hesitated, pulling the money back so she couldn’t take it. “I am an asshole and I don’t think it would be very asshole of me to help you out by giving you money,” he smirked.

“Whatever,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m not really in the mood for your games today.”

“Here, little bitch, just take the money,” Hongjoong ordered.

“What’s the catch?” Y/N asked suspiciously.

“No catch,” Hongjoong sighed. “I'm just trying to show you that I’m not ALWAYS an asshole.”

She hesitated but eventually grabbed the five dollars from him turning around and inserting the money into the machine. She punched in the code she wanted and bent down to retrieve the bottle of water.

She felt hongjoongs hands grab her waist from behind as his body pressed firmly against hers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N asked, quickly standing up.

“We never had the chance to pick up where we left off when we were at the club,” Hongjoong stated. “You do have a nice little ass on you, little bitch.” He rubbed his hard dick against her ass with a smirk on his face. She quickly turned around, shocked.

“Oh I see, you’d rather make eye contact with me,” He whispered, reaching his hands around, squeezing her ass cheeks as tight as he could. “I’m gonna make this clap.”

“No,” Y/N snapped, pushing him away from her. “I gotta go back to Wooyoung.”

She ran out of the room with the vending machines, heading back towards the waiting room when San popped his head out of a hospital room that she was passing.

“Woo is in here now,” he smiled signaling for her to come inside.

Y/N stopped running and entered the hospital room, realizing it was another empty room.

“San what the fuck,” she sighed. “Woos not in here.”

“No but I figured we could have some alone time in here,” San smiled.

“Alone time to do what?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know,” San smiled, rubbing her cheek with his index finger. “I guess we could just talk.”

“Okay…” she looked at him, blankly. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You know Wooyoung gave me the ok to have my way with you,” San announced.

“What?!?” Y/N snapped. “When did he say that?”

“On the jet to Thailand,” San nodded. “He said he didn’t give a shit and if I wanted you then I could have you.”

“I’m not his to give away,” she stated as tears started to well up in her eyes. “He doesn’t want me anymore anyways.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” San said.

“When he saw this,” she said, lifting her shirt to expose her tattoo, “he called me disgusting.”

San reached out and lightly ran his finger over the tattoo of Seonghwas name. “I don’t mind cumming on another man’s name,” he smirked. He reached around, placing both hands on her ass, lifting her onto the counter in the room. “I actually find it quite sexy.” He leaned down, lightly kissing her neck then running his tongue up towards her ear.

“Oh my god,” Y/N snapped, pushing him away. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?!? Your god damned friend is laying in a fucking hospital bed, fighting for his life and all you guys can think about is fucking me. Jesus!”

Y/N stormed out of the hospital room and continued walking until she reached the waiting room.

Seonghwa turned to look at Y/N, “it’s about time you get back,” he said.

She opened her mouth to speak but before she could get any words out, Yeosang came running into the room.

“Woos awake!!” he yelled.

Everyone ran into his hospital room without hesitation. Wooyoung looked up and forced a smile at yn. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered.

She ran over, grabbing his hand, “oh my god, woo, you had me so worried.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell us what happened?” Mingi asked.

Wooyoung ignored the question, “stay with me tonight,” he said lightly squeezing her hand, while reclosing his eyes.

“A pack of wild dogs couldn’t tear me away from you,” Y/N stated, sitting on the chair next to his bed, still holding onto his hand.

“Knock knock,” a delivery man said, entering the room, holding a bouquet of flowers. “I have a delivery for Wooyoung.”

“He’s sleeping,” Seonghwa said. “I’ll sign for them.”

He signed the clipboard and took the bouquet of flowers, setting them down on the table by the bed. He pulled the card out, reading it aloud.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Woo. But next time I won’t miss.

Xoxo

J.W

Ps tell my fiancé that I’m coming for her and she will be mine once again.”

“J.W?” Yunho asked.

“Jackson Wang,” San said.

“I thought I killed him,” Wooyoung whispered slowly opening his eyes.

“Who’s his fiancé?” Yeosang wondered.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung announced.

Everyone turned to look at her with their mouths agape.

♥️𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟 ♠️𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝♣️

♥️♠️𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽♦️♣️

@stayatinykatsy

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plague-of-insomnia · 2 months ago

Text

@matchasilver

Q1: Who likes topping more, Agni or Sebastian?

A1: Generally, I see Seb as a vers-leaning toward bottom, so I tend to write him on the receiving end. But I have written him topping Agni once— it hasn’t been published yet because I need to write the stuff that comes between what’s been posted and when this scene happens, but it’s from my Cardiac Tamponade AU. Seb is not handling their breakup with Bard well and wants to top since they never topped with Bard, so it’ll be different, and they need the sex to escape.

Im hoping i can post this this year bc I really wanna write bipolar Sebastian:

Sebastian could get hypersexual when their mood swung one way or the other, and they often used it as a coping mechanism. Not always in the healthiest way. But the release of post-coital endorphins did seem to help, albeit temporarily. And if Sebastian had an orgasm, maybe they’d be able to sleep, which Agni could see his friend desperately needed.

And it would be better for Sebastian to fuck Agni, where he would be sure they were safe, than hooking up with a stranger on Grindr, who they may not bother wearing a condom with due to their impulsivity magnified by the mania.

With a soft sigh, Agni rose and removed his own clothes, laying them aside.

Sebastian stood and stepped out of their scrubs, kicking them out of the way. They slid their palm along Agni’s side. Kissed the Kali tattoo on his right wrist. “I want to fuck you. Can I?”

“Sebastian—”

“I need something different from sex with Bard. Please.”

Unlike Sebastian, who preferred bottoming, Agni wasn’t overly fond of it. But if it would help Sebastian move on, help them with their mood, help them rest— “All right.”

Q2: Who prefers topping: Bard or Seb?

A2: Definitely Bard. I see him as an “exit only” kind of guy (lol) who has never bottomed or only does so occasionally…. (but I HAVE written bottom Bard, but not with sebard (yet) like in a Bardwolf smut fic I wrote eons ago)… but it works out since Seb loves to bottom :)

ty for the asks

#black butler #黒執事 #sebastian michaelis #agni #bardroy #sebagni #sebard #n s f w text #bard #cardinac tamponade #snippet #poi writes

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strangeofficial · 5 months ago

Note

Serena soared high above the city, her Iron Sorceress suit glinting in the sunlight as she executed a series of aerial maneuvers. Suddenly, without warning, the suit's systems malfunctioned, the once-reliable technology glitching as alarms blared in her ears. Before she could react, she plummeted from a height of over 2,000 feet, the ground rushing up to meet her in a terrifying descent.

The impact was jarring, and one of the suit's jagged components broke loose during the fall, impaling her pulmonary vein. Pain shot through her chest, and she gasped, blood seeping from the wound and pooling around her hand. Desperate to escape the agony and the impending darkness, she fumbled for her sling ring, her fingers slick with blood.

"Focus, damnit..," she whispered to herself, blood dripping down her arm. With her last bit of strength, she managed to slip on the sling ring and visualize the Sanctum. The portal wavered as her concentration faltered, but she willed it to open.

The swirling gateway finally appeared, though it flickered as she staggered through, blood soaking through her suit and staining the floor. “Stephen!!”

@serenastank-official

//This reminds me of that one scene from Doctor Strange where he gets a cardiac tamponade and yells for Christine.

*he looked up upon hearing his name, being interrupted from reading his book for about the 6th time today. He froze as he saw her and he dropped everything immediately* "Serena!!" *he called out as he rushed to her*

#doctor strange #marvel #mcu rp

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Lies

Pairing: Victor Vale x EO!fem!reader

Summary: As you die, you wish to know to truth: about what your life meant, what happens after death, everything. When you come back, you know when people are lying and when they’re telling the truth. You are a human lie detector, who Victor Vale decides to use to his advantage.

Word Count: 4.8k+ words

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and death (reader is an EO), spoilers for Vicious and Vengeful, takes place after Vengeful but ignores something that happens, EMT codes and medical terminology, OC villains, angst, canon-typical violence, fluff, Victor is Dol's biggest fan. I think that's all?

A/N: I'm desperately searching for an actor/model/anyone that matches my mental image of Victor to make gifs. As I said in the warnings, this takes place after Vengeful but doesn't reference something that Victor does/experiences because I didn't think it was necessary (and it made me sad reading it tbh). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think!🖤

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)

Your heart rate slows to a crawl as your mind races, and questions form in your cerebrum faster than you can process any answers. Asking yourself these questions, you don’t register the sharp pain in your chest or the shortness of your breath.

Why? What was the purpose? What happens next? Did I make an impact?

The last thing you hear before the questions stop is, “Check for pulsus paradoxus; blood pressure unstable! Code 99: W, 902H… 914C, DOA.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As your hearing returns, a steady beeping causes your head to pound. Opening your eyes slowly, you realize you’re in a hospital room.

“Welcome back,” a nurse says as she walks in. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” you respond.

“I’ll call the doctor.”

She walks out, and you feel a strange flinching sensation in your right wrist.

“Hello,” the doctor says, introducing himself as he looks at your vitals. “You’re making quite the recovery.”

Another flinch.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

“Umm, I was in an accident,” you answer.

“Yes, you had a fairly severe case of cardiac tamponade; blood gathered around your heart and the pressure caused some problems.”

“My heart stopped?”

The doctor nods. “We performed a thoracotomy, cleared the liquid and brought you back.”

Your wrist flinches again, and you look down, feeling the sensation but seeing no evidence you’re moving.

“There were no complications,” the doctor adds.

Your wrist feels like it contracts quickly, and before you think about it, you say, “That’s not true.”

The doctor swallows, checking your chart and avoiding eye contact as he admits, “The injury that caused the tamponade is fairly hard to correct, at least permanently.”

“You’re saying it could happen again?”

“Yes.”

Flinch. Truth.

“I would encourage you to get a service dog trained to your symptoms and get your heart checked regularly. It may come back, but considering how quickly you recovered, I consider it unlikely.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Of course. I’ll be in a few more times today, but you should be ready for discharge soon,” he says as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“That was true,” you mutter, looking down at your wrist.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How could you possibly know that?” Sydney asks, spinning her cocoa cup as she sits across from Victor.

“Your brain, the medial temporal lobe and the medial and lateral prefrontal cortexes, makes false memories, Syd,” Victor answers, not looking up from his paper.

“But why?”

“That’s a question for a psych major. I was pre-med,” Victor deadpans.

“If the brain makes different memories, though, why do we think some of the false ones are real?”

“Trauma responses?” Victor suggests, sighing as he looks up. “I really don’t know. Deep inside your brain, you know which ones are true, unless you somehow convince yourself which ones are false.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the hospital, you hear as many lies as you do truths.

“You’re going to be fine,” someone promises. Lie.

“There isn’t much we can do.” Truth.

“The bathroom is down the hall.” Lie. You look over and see a young boy laugh as another child walks in the opposite direction.

Speeding up, you decide to go somewhere you hopefully won’t hear anyone. While you walk down the street, you see a small coffee shop off by itself. You walk inside and take a deep breath at the lack of people. Only five or six customers occupy the cafe, and only two don't have their noses buried in computer screens. You order a drink and sit in the back corner, lying your head on the table as you enjoy the quiet.

When you pick your head up to take a drink, you feel a weird sense of pain, less painful than nudging, like it’s directing your attention away from something. Even stranger, the pain isn’t real. Turning toward the sensation, you notice a pale man wearing the black clothes and the blonde girl sitting across from him. They could be siblings, but that doesn’t feel true. The girl looks over at you, her eyebrows raising when she sees you looking. She taps the man with her foot, and he glances up before following her gaze, his eyes locking on yours.

“Can we help you?” he asks, his eyes narrowed as the nudging sensation strengthens slightly.

“No, sorry. I, uh, I thought you were someone else,” you apologize as you turn back to your drink.

“Remember what I said,” the man whispers, sounding much kinder than when he spoke to you.

You ignore them until they leave, but as soon as the man is out of sight of the coffee shop, the patrons begin whispering to one another, truths and lies floating through the air as new life enters the atmosphere. The distraction of pain is gone, too, and you jump out of your seat to follow the man in black.

“Hey!” you yell as you catch up.

He turns around, pushing the girl behind him as he sticks a hand under his jacket.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Was that you? The pain that kept everyone from looking at you?” you ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you still have the wrong guy.”

You shake your head as your wrist flinches, barely noticeable, but enough to be sure he’s lying.

“That’s not true.” The girl pokes her head out, and you look at her to ask, “Can you do something, too?”

“No,” she whispers.

“That’s another lie.”

“Look,” he begins, raising a hand toward you.

“No, no, you look. I died yesterday, but now I’m a walking lie detector. So if you can do something too you have to help me,” you ramble, dropping your shoulders as you add, “Please.”

“You know when people are lying?” he asks.

You nod, and he looks at the girl, gesturing his head toward you.

“My name’s Sydney,” she says, standing straight as she steps beside her protector.

You nod and introduce yourself, tapping your hand on your thigh rather than shaking Sydney's hand. Her protector doesn’t seem like he would appreciate the sudden movement.

“This is Frank,” Sydney says.

Shaking your head, you look over at him.

“Lie?”

“Lie.”

“My name’s Victor,” he corrects, extending his hand.

You shake it, scrunching your nose in pain, your chest tightening much like it did yesterday.

“You died very recently,” Victor says. “I can control pain, obviously.”

“What can you do?” you ask Sydney.

“Doesn’t matter,” Victor interjects, looking at Sydney as she steps behind him again. “What kind of help do you want?”

“I’d like to know why I am a human polygraph test now,” you answer with a weak chuckle.

Victor looks around and sighs. “Come with us. Syd, call Mitch and tell him we have company.”

You thank Victor quietly and walk behind him, watching people turn away from him as the same nudging that pulls you to him pushes them away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Okay,” Victor says, looking at Mitch’s computer. “This says you were gone for nearly two minutes. You were on the brink of brain damage.”

“What caused the bleeding around your heart?” Mitch asks.

“An accident. I don’t remember many details, though,” you answer, fiddling your fingers in your lap.

“What were you thinking about when you died?” Victor asks.

“Umm, there were a lot of questions. Like what would happen after I died and what everything meant. That’s all I remember thinking.”

“Have you heard of the theory of EOs?”

“ExtraOrdinary?” you clarify. “Just what I’ve seen in the papers. The masked vigilante that got arrested? Uh, something Ever, I think.”

Victor clenches his jaw as he nods. “Yeah, he was an EO. Just like me, Sydney, and you.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“EOs are, in the most basic sense, people who died and came back with something extraordinary,” Victor explains. “Unfortunately, something is also missing when we come back.”

“You’re saying that this power, whatever, is because I died? I have to live with this forever?”

“Yes. But, I have an idea, if you’re willing to help.”

“Help how?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is the new EON facility?” Victor growls, wiping a knife on his sleeve as he circles the chair.

“I don’t know!” the man in the chair cries.

You lock eyes with Victor and shake your head; another lie.

“See, you do know and you’re just not willing to share. That’s not very nice,” Victor says, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees to look into the man’s eyes. “Tell me where it is and the pain goes away.”

“You’ll never find it!”

You shrug when Victor looks up at you; it’s not an answer, so it’s relatively true and false at the same time. Schrödinger’s answer.

“Do you want to meet my friend?” Victor asks, a small smile on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Victor walks around the man, leaving him thrashing against the restraints. When Victor reaches you, he looks into your eyes as he speaks.

“Seeing you, knowing that you can tell what’s true and false will make him more aware of how serious this is,” Victor explains. “Are you up to this?”

You nod and follow Victor, similarly dressed in black to hide in the shadows.

“Why don’t you tell her what you told me?” Victor begins. “Where is the EON facility?”

“I don’t know,” the man repeats, staring at you.

“That’s a lie,” you state, setting your hands on Victor’s table of knives as you lean back against it. “Why don’t you tell me something true? No one ever tells the truth anymore.”

“Probably because you’re going to kill them regardless!”

“Is that what he told you?” you ask, cocking your head as you glance at Victor. “No, no, you tell us the truth and we leave. We don’t need you, we just need your information.”

“I’m taking it to the grave.”

“Now that’s true,” you say, smiling. “What about your name? What’s your name?”

“Bradley,” he mumbles.

Victor returns to your side, spinning a knife as he leans against the table beside you.

“In the mood for sharing now?” he asks.

“Not with you,” Bradley snaps.

“Oh, I see. Pretty girl is worthy of the answers, not me. I get it.” He places a hand on Bradley’s shoulder, stooping to whisper in his ear as he walks out. “I think for a moment she is in danger and you will experience pain beyond what you can imagine. Understand?”

Bradley nods as your wrist flinches. Whatever Victor said was true.

“Why are you willing to share with me, Bradley?” you ask once alone. He shrugs, and you ask, “Where is EON?”

“I don’t have an address.” Truth. “All I ever heard was that it is in a building once owned by the government. Somewhere north of town where there’s not much traffic.” Another truth.

“Do you have any idea which building it could be? Or which agency owned it?”

“No.” You tilt your head toward him, and he sighs before asking for paper and a pen. “Just this one,” he says as he writes an address.

“Thank you,” you say as you slip the paper into your pocket.

“What happens now?” Bradley asks.

“We all move on,” you say, smiling at him before walking out.

Your wrist doesn’t contract when you lie, but you and Bradley know that isn’t true.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good work,” Victor says as he emerges from the building, wiping his hands on his coat.

“Thanks. He gave me this address, but he’s not sure if it is the correct building. All he could say for sure was that the building is somewhere north of town, no traffic around it, and that it used to be owned by the government,” you explain as you walk beside Victor.

Victor nods and takes the paper from you, reading the address before putting it in his pocket. “It’s probably the right place; there aren’t many abandoned government buildings around here. How’d you get him to talk to you?”

“People are less inclined to lie when they know they can’t get away with it,” you answer. “And I’m pretty sure he was just scared of you.”

Victor nods, keeping his eyes on something ahead of you as he shifts you to stand on his other side.

“Would you have killed him if I wasn’t there?” you ask quietly.

“No. I needed the information, I would have found another way to get it,” he answers after taking a few steps in silence.

Your wrist flinches as you round the corner, Dol greeting you at the door.

“Mitch, we got an address,” Victor says, passing the paper to Mitch. “I need the property records and a list of previous owners.”

Mitch nods and begins typing as Dol rubs his head against your thigh.

“Sydney, does he need a walk?” you ask, laying a hand on Dol’s head.

“No, I took him out this morning,” she answers.

“Can I take him anyways? He seems antsy.”

“Sure,” Sydney answers, smiling at you. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, keep doing whatever it is you do.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, laughing as you return the sentiment while clipping Dol’s leash to his collar. You wave to Victor as you open the door, waiting for him to nod before you leave. Dol leads you down the street, stopping to sniff occasionally before stopping in front of the coffee shop where you met Victor. He growls lowly as his shackles rise, and you look around but don’t see anyone or anything that would cause him to act so differently.

“Dol, what’s up, buddy?” you ask quietly, setting your hand on his back.

He barks in response before pulling you to the corner. When the hospital comes into view, his growling gets louder as he looks between you and the building. You see someone walk out of the hospital with a hood over their head; they stop walking suddenly, and the hood snaps up in your direction like they’re looking at you.

“Dol, run,” you whisper, dropping his leash as you both turn and run toward the door you left just a few minutes ago.

Dol is a few steps ahead when a hand leaps out of an alley and pulls you into the darkness.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor rolls his eyes when he hears Dol’s incessant barking at the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you to take a key?” he asks as he opens the door, freezing when he sees Dol is alone. He leans down and picks up Dol’s leash, looking into his eyes as he asks, “Where is she?”

Dol doesn’t answer, obviously, but looks behind him, the direction he came from.

“Sydney, did she say where she was going?” Victor asks, closing the door as he pulls Dol inside.

“No, she just offered to take him for a walk. This is bad isn’t it?” she responds, grabbing Dol’s neck as he sits at her side.

“Sydney, remember the promise?”

“No one will hurt me because you’ll hurt them first. Yeah, I remember.”

“I made the same promise to her. I’m going to find her. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, tell Mitch to get you and Dol out of here.”

“We’re not leaving you!”

“And I’m not dragging you down with me,” Victor promises as he walks out the door, his black coat trailing behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tell him to stop looking for EON,” the hooded figure says, its hand around your neck as you’re pushed against the brick wall in the alley.

“Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, panting as you struggle to breathe.

“You do know! Maybe you can tell when other people are lying, but you’re not a very good liar yourself, are you? How many lies have you let him tell you because you think you’re helping? He killed my brother and now I will kill him.”

You feel a flinch signifying the truth of his statement as you ask, “Why?”

“He’s not good. EON is doing good. Until EOs can be understood, they can’t be trusted. Surely you understand how important trust is.”

The pressure is taken off your neck, and you cough before saying, “Torturing people doesn’t build trust.”

“Is that what he said we do? Victor is many things, and a good liar tops the list.”

“He’s not a liar. You are.”

“Really?” A dark chuckle proceeds the demand, “Ask me to lie.”

“Why?” you ask.

“I am not going to kill you.”

Lie.

“I only want to kill Victor.”

Lie.

“What about… I only want to kill Victor first.”

Truth.

You look up but can’t see anything past the hood. “Why are you doing this?”

“EOs aren’t trustworthy until they prove it. Show where your allegiance lies and maybe I will let you live.”

“You know where my allegiance lies: with the truth, and you will kill me no matter what I do.”

“That’s not true.”

It’s not, you know that, but you trust Victor. Or at least you think you do.

“Trick him into lying and see what your detector says. I’ll give you some time to reconsider.”

You blink, and the hooded figure is gone. Rubbing your neck, you stumble out of the alley and into someone’s arms.

“What happened?” Victor demands.

“Did you kill someone?” you ask, gripping his biceps.

“No. What are you talking about?”

Truth. But you know differently. You release his arms and try to back away from him, but he drops his hands to your waist and holds you firm.

“Let go,” you demand.

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“There’s people here, Victor.”

“They’re not paying attention to us. Talk.”

You look around and see that no one is looking at you. As usual, no one notices Victor.

“Why do you push people away?”

“To keep the people close to me safe,” he answers.

Truth.

“And why did you let me join you, help you, whatever it is you call my role here?”

“Because I thought your ability would be helpful. And I knew EON was back and wanted to help keep you safe.”

Two truths.

“Fine. Did Dol come back?”

Victor nods and releases you, watching as you walk past him. He clenches his jaw before dialing a random person’s pain up as he follows.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Victor asks, letting himself into your assigned bedroom.

You’re sitting on your bed in the dark, staring out the window as you respond, “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re lying to me.”

Victor sighs as his leg hits your bed, jostling the mattress slightly as he stands behind you.

“About what?” he asks.

You turn around to face him, looking up into the dark, barely able to make out his face, as you say, “Lie to me.”

“Tell me what happened,” he demands again.

You shake your head and lean back.

“Why is this so important? Don’t you trust me?”

“I did. And I want to. But you’re not making it easy right now.”

Victor sighs and runs his fingers through his pale hair before kneeling by your bed, looking up into your eyes as he offers, “If I lie to you will you tell me what happened?”

You nod as you lean forward, closing some of the distance between you. “But talk to me like you normally talk to me, don’t tell me something that is obviously a lie.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” he says.

Truth.

“How do you do that?” you whisper. “I know you’re lying but my body still tells me it’s true.”

“Have I ever triggered a lie response?”

“Once. When we first met you said you didn’t know what I was talking about and that I had the wrong guy. But everything since then has been true, or so I thought.”

“My turn,” Victor says, cutting you off as he stands. “Tell me what happened in that alley.”

You take a deep breath and scoot back, allowing Victor to perch on the edge of the bed. “I was walking Dol and he stopped suddenly and started growling. His shackles raised, too. We were in front of a coffee shop, the one where you and I met.” You look down at your lap as you try to remember every detail of what happened next. “Then he led me to the corner, where you can see the hospital, and someone in a hood came out and looked toward us. I let go of Dol’s leash while we ran but I got pulled into an alley.”

“By the hooded… figure?” Victor asks.

You nod and continue, “Whoever, or whatever it was, told me to tell you to stop looking for EON. They knew your name, too, and said that I let you lie to me because I thought I was doing good.”

“What else did they say about EON?”

“That they were building trust with EOs, that until they could be understood they couldn’t be trusted.”

“Anything else? Did you see or hear anything that could tell us more?”

“They said they want to kill you.” You pick at the comforter as you add, “And me, if I don’t reconsider and show my allegiance is with them.”

Victor stands suddenly and turns the light on.

You close your eyes tightly at the sudden brightness before asking, “What are you doing?”

He places a finger under your chin, raising your face toward him as he looks at your neck. His jaw clenches before he pulls his hand away.

“What?” you repeat.

“You didn’t say they touched you.”

“Obviously they touched me, Victor, they’re bad- wait, you killed the brother,” you say, remembering what else the hooded person said about Victor. “They said, ‘He killed my brother and now I will kill him.’”

“Bradley,” you and Victor say together.

“You lied to me,” you accuse quietly.

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“How do I know you’re not still lying?”

“Because I can lie to you, I just also know how to manipulate the truth. Yes, I killed Bradley.”

Truth.

“And I killed my friend Angie, and I killed several other people.”

Truth.

“And I will kill you if I have to.”

Lie.

You look into Victor’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “I can lie to you and get away with it, but only if I think it’s protecting you. I don’t know why it works. Maybe it’s just because I care about you.”

Truth.

“We need to find Bradley’s brother,” you say, standing and following Victor down the hall. “Victor.” You grab his arm to stop him, facing each other in the dark as you whisper, “I care about you too. Thank you for telling me the truth… and for lying to me.”

Victor smiles, just a flash in the darkness, before pulling you into the living room and opening Mitch’s laptop.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You reconsidered?”

“I did… Jake. But I didn’t change my mind,” you answer, crossing your arms as Victor walks in behind you, a shadow visible for only a second as he melts into the darkness.

“I will avenge my brother,” Jake vows as he removes his hood.

“Dying at the hands of your brother-in-law must have been embarrassing,” Victor taunts from the dark. “I can’t imagine what kind of power you received to deal with something like that.”

“Come out and see,” Jake calls.

“I actually do most of the bidding,” you interject with a smile. “Easier to determine who’s worth the time when you know if they’re lying.”

“And is he lying to you?”

“He was. You were right.”

“Then why are you still helping him?”

“Because you lied too.” You stick your hands in your coat pocket as you walk toward Jake. “EON does torture EOs, and when they get tired of the EOs or deem their powers useless, they kill them. That’s not building trust, that’s genocide.”

“And your little shadow boyfriend killing everyone he can get his hands on isn’t?”

“He doesn’t kill everyone,” you argue. “But tell me, have you ever killed anyone?”

“Of course not, I’m not a monster.”

“Oh,” you sigh, clicking your tongue. “See, the bad thing about a half-truth, is it’s also a half-lie. Killing your wife accidentally is still killing your wife, Jake.”

Jake lunges toward you before Victor drops him, creating enough pain that he curls in on himself. You step over him, looking toward Victor as you continue talking.

“One more question. What did Haverty promise you before he died?”

Victor eases the pain, his eyes on Jake as he stands and turns to you.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie, Jake. We feel the same way about lies, don’t you think? Be considerate and tell me the truth or you’ll learn just how convincing Victor’s power can be.”

“Doesn’t old Victor back there have to see someone to use his power?” Jake asks, smirking at you.

“I see you talked to Eli,” Victor calls. “What Eli wasn’t around to find out is that once the initial connection is made, the power works a little differently.”

“Just tell us what we need to know, Jake, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

“Or you could just make yourself invisible because that’s how you feel, right?” Victor taunts.

Jake rushes into the shadows, and you look down at your wrist as you tap the heel of one shoe against the toe of the other. Victor emerges a moment later, dragging a nearly unconscious, half-invisible Jake back to you.

You squat beside him and whisper, “I really am sorry about Bradley, I know what it’s like to lose someone. But you were going to lose him anyway. Just tell us what Haverty promised you and who you were working with.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake groans.

Truth. You look up at Victor with wide eyes.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” you ask.

“She’s dead. And everything I earned is gone.”

“Marcella?” Victor asks.

Jake nods, and Victor gestures for you to stand beside him.

“Run, Jake, and stay away from EON,” Victor says.

You watch as Jake disappears.

“Is this fight ever going to end?” you ask.

“Not likely,” Victor answers.

“Who killed Marcella?”

“Eli.”

“And then you killed him?”

“Yes.”

“Victor,” you say, drawing his eyes to yours. You smile and say, “No, you didn’t.”

Victor opens his mouth to argue, but you turn and walk away, calling, “Sydney is a better sharer than you.”

Victor rolls his eyes before catching up with you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ll never figure all of them out,” Victor says, dragging a Sharpie across the first page of his parents’ newest book.

“Sydney, help me out?” you ask.

“Dol, don’t let Sydney help,” Victor adds.

“Okay, so saying you’d kill me is a lie,” you muse aloud.

“You said you’d kill her?” Mitch asks, looking up from his computer.

“She told me to lie,” Victor answers with a shrug.

“Someone else tell me something,” you request, turning away from Victor.

“Dol is ugly!” Sydney says, complying with your request.

“Don’t listen, buddy, you’re the most handsome guy here,” Victor whispers, setting the marker aside to pat Dol’s head.

“Obviously a lie, c’mon, Syd,” you chide playfully.

“Dol likes Vic just as much as he likes Sydney,” Mitch adds.

“That… you think it’s true, at least,” you determine.

“And why wouldn’t you?” Victor asks Dol. “We’re both amazing, aren’t we?”

“Try to trick me,” you demand.

Sydney says something, but your wrist flinches before she finishes, the sound of Victor’s marker drowning her out. The same as when he whispered to Bradley. You turn to face him, and he raises his eyebrows as you take his marker.

“Did you just say something?” you ask.

He shrugs and looks back to the page. You glance down and find the few words still visible:

“What did you tell Bradley when you left me alone with him?” you whisper.

“That I’d hurt him if I thought you were in danger.”

“And what did you say just now?”

“You read it.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I meant them both, and I still do. I won’t let anyone hurt you because I’ll hurt them first. I let you stay because I care about you but it grew from there.”

“Finally,” Sydney says behind you.

Your wrist flinches as Victor rolls his eyes at her.

“You love me? I love you.”

Victor smiles. Not the smile he smiles before he lies, but a genuine smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“Good indeed, now stop making us uncomfortable,” Mitch says as he sits beside Sydney.

Dol barks as Sydney argues that you and Victor are cute together.

Your wrist flinches with every comment, especially when Victor whispers, “I’ve loved you since you accused me of lying the first time we met. Even though you lied to me, too.”

#victor vale x reader #victor vale #vicious ve schwab #vicious #fem!reader

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