#ekg system

[forgotten-daydreamer]

vent moment but my health is a bit worse than i let on, which is weird ik since it seems like complain about it all the time here, and apparently i also look sick, because two separate people in their 40s or 50s asked me, 24, if i needed their seat on the bus. kind of them. but humiliating nonetheless.

[vyeoh]

My proudest moment of the champions peice is after 3-4 years of not really reviewing the circulatory system I still drew the heart from memory

[halfd3af]

can Dr. House please be real and diagnose me, I’ll let him call me slurs if it means he figures out what’s wrong with me

[bethanydelleman]

I LITERALLY ALWAYS THINK THIS AND I THOUGHT I WAS ALONE

Me EVERYTIME I get blood work: and they claim we are past bloodletting.

Headed off to get bloodwork done and it’s taking all of my restraint not to thank the doctor for bleeding me to balance my humors.

[ththump]

Found an old notebook in the basement of a local library... it's just page after page of this stuff. Weird. (Full text below)

Experiment A-200 Test Subject 4

00:00 HR 76 Subject supine, restrained by wrists and ankles 6-lead EKG is attached

00:02 HR 82 Subjects gag and blindfold are removed, seems confused but unalarmed

00:05 HR 85 Administered 1 cc of [redacted]. Subject still unafraid, expressed interest in syringe contents

00:06 HR 94 Subjects heart rate increased as the effects of [redacted] were explained. Onset of action is expected at 00:10 - is subject excited

00:10 HR 142 Drug has clearly taken effect. Significant increase in HR and breathing. Subject's heart is visible against their ribs

00:15 HR 159 Subject expresses desire to touch their chest - right hand unrestrained. Subject gropes at their sternum eagerly

00:17 HR 162 Subjects hand drifts from their chest towards their groin, restrained again to prevent self-stimulation

00:18 HR 175 Subject whines for permission to touch themself No other test subjects reacted to the drug this way.

00:20 HR 180 Subject begs to use the stethoscope around my neck, begins crying when ignored

00:23 HR 186 [Redacted] should peak in system soon. Subject is highly aroused - bucking their hips and whimpering

00:24 HR 195 Subjects heart is beginning to skip: pausing, throwing double beats, attempting half beats, etc

00:25 HR 200 Max predicted heart rate. Rate is expected to drop now

00:26 HR 217 Subject falls into ventricular fibrillation upon hitting 217, appears to have climaxed without being touched

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I don’t know if the prompts can be asking for more in stories you’ve already started, but I would love to see more of the Hero of Shadow and Wild Link interacting, or more on Abel’s heart attack in the HC AU, or more interactions with Zelda and Link after they had to get married (Golden Mercy? The Imprisoning War? Not sure what that one’s called). … Or basically anything involving hurt/comfort or Hyrule, honestly. 😂

I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing it with us! < 3

Hyrule snapped his fingers in front of his friend. “Wild!”

Wild blinked, flinching and taking a step back. “S-sorry—”

“You good? Was that another—I thought the meds—”

“No,” Wild shook his head. “I—it was—sorry, I just—he—”

Wild continued to stammer, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't spaced out, he'd honed in, his mind had snapped with clarity, screaming at him and wanting nothing more than to run towards the stretcher.

That man—he was—

And he was having a—

"I-I just... need to sit down for a bit," Wild finally said, walking out of the ED.

Wild had yet to fully explain everything that had happened in his past. Everyone knew he had gaps in his memory, that he'd sustained a head injury, that it made him have absence seizures, but the cause of it... the people he'd left behind because of the aftermath...

How could Wild possibly ever explain? He'd failed in his mission, and it had gotten his entire team killed. He could never face anyone from his past, let alone his—

Castle Town had promised a new life, a new beginning, especially as memories had tried to piece themselves back together and make him want to run and hide all the more. If he told everyone... then there was no more running from it.

Wild buried his face in his hands, resting on an empty stretcher in the basement. His mind screamed with anxiety as his past caught up to the present, and his heart screamed with worry over his father.

This was a nightmare.

XXX

Fable looked over her room one more time. Ambu bag? Check. Suction? Check. Defibrillator? Check. She had her maintenance IV fluid set up, the plasmolyte liter set up, the wires for the cardiac monitoring system ready to go, chest tube suction at the ready, and her little trays had all the syringes, saline flushes, blunt tips, alcohol swabs, caps, lab tubes, and everything else she could think of prepared.

She'd chart stalked the patient while he was in the OR, and she'd already gotten report from the nurse. Forty-year-old male (oh he's young, Fable thought, used to seeing far older patients) presented to the ED via EMS with chest pain and shortness of breath, STEMI confirmed with EKG, and he was sent to the cath lab. There they found multiple severe occlusions and opted for an open heart bypass surgery rather than using stents, and off to the OR he'd gone.

The surgery had gone fairly straightforward from what she could see - he'd been on bypass for about an hour, and the surgery itself had been going on for about four. He'd gotten about 500 of cell saver, 2L crystalloid, and 1 RBC, and he'd only been defibrillated once.

Just as she looked over the chart again, roll call was sent out to the unit, and she gathered her thoughts as she went to the room, awaiting the patient. He arrived a minute or so later, and the room quickly filled with Fable, the charge nurse, the tech, another nurse, the anesthesiologist, the attending surgeon, the fellow surgeon, the respiratory therapist, the ICU attending, and the nurse practitioner.

Everyone slipped into different roles and tasks fairly easily and quickly. Anesthesia handed off to the RT, who attached the ET tube to his ventilator, the tech worked on putting chest tubes to suction and getting outputs, Fable assessed her patient and looked at what drips they were on (2 of epi, 4 of levo, 0.02 of vaso, 1.5 of Dex, 1.2 of insulin), charge took the admission note while the surgeons gave report and Fable listened vaguely, her other nurse was attaching the safe set to the arterial line to collect blood for labs and an ABG, and the ICU providers listened to the report.

Vasoplegia, not too much bleeding but enough to merit product, chest tube output was a little high but not alarming, and he was cold at 35.8. Fable asked her tech to get a bear hugger, and x-ray arrived to check ET placement as the surgeons finished report. Fable stripped the chest tubes alongside the surgical fellow before they all stepped out for x-ray. ABG resulted pH 7.33, pO2 107, CO2 38, bicarb 24, and lactate 3.1. Fable opened the extra plasmolyte fluid bolus up to try and help with the lactate, which was likely indicative that the patient was dry.

The surgery team left, and Fable remained to stabilize the patient. She and her charge nurse worked on detangling the lines while the tech covered him in a warm blanket. His blood pressure was within parameters, with a mean arterial pressure greater than 65, though his systolics were in the 120s, which was right at his upper limit, so she tried weaning the levo a little, going to 3 to see what would happen, before continuing to detangle lines, get a blood sugar for the glucommander that was determining the insulin levels to give him, and obtaining cardiac output indeces. His cardiac index was 2.8, and his systemic vascular resistance indexed for his body weight was around 2600. Good CI, a little higher on the SVRI end. Perhaps she should wean the epi too, assuming his MAP tolerated it.

After about an hour, Fable felt a little less overwhelmed, and she called her charge nurse, who had left the room a good while ago alongside the rest of the team. "Have we heard anything about family?"

"He has a wife and daughter," she replied. "But they're a fair distance from here, out in Hateno. I think last we heard they were making arrangements to get here, but it wouldn't be until tomorrow morning."

Fable glanced at the clock. It was almost shift change, so night shift would have to be the ones to wake the man up, get a neuro assessment, and then hopefully extubate him.

Nodding, she went back to work. She wasn't going to wean sedation until he was warm enough, so all she had to focus on right now was stabilizing him. His labs came back and his hemoglobin was a little low, and his two mediastinal and one pleural chest tubes collectively put out about 280mL of blood. It was still a fairly high amount, mostly evenly distributed (the meds were bleeding more, but neither exceeded 100mL for the hour), but not enough to think there was an active bleed that needed surgical intervention. Not yet, at least.

Overall, he looked pretty decent.

After another hour, one blood product later, Fable finally felt like she was starting to get everything settled. Her patient's temperature was normalizing, but she was twenty minutes from shift change, so she figured it was safer to let him sleep through report and then night shift could try to figure out weaning and bathing. His lactic on his repeat ABG was improving at 2.4, so they were likely addressing all the problems.

When a transporter walked by, IV pumps in hand, she noticed him pause in front of her room. She walked over to him. "Hey. Can I help you?"

The transporter, a young man with long blonde hair tied out of his face, jumped, a little startled. "Uh, hi. Yeah. Sorry. I just..."

"What room are you looking for?" she asked helpfully. "I don't need extra channels."

"Uh, these are for 4301."

"You passed it, it's back that way."

"Right," the man nodded, looking back in the room. "Right."

Fable waited a moment, and then asked, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Is he doing okay?" the man immediately asked.

Fable smiled. "Yeah, he's looking pretty good, I think."

"Can..." the transporter swallowed, shifting anxiously. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's pretty sedated right now," Fable answered cautiously. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

The transporter sighed in defeat. "I... he's my dad. I... haven't seen him in a long time."

His dad? Her charge nurse had said he had a daughter, not a son. Though... looking between her patient and the transporter in front of her, the family resemblance was striking.

Well, she hadn't heard of any visitor restrictions for him. "Yeah. You're not on his chart, though - can I get your name?"

The transporter sighed, putting the supplies he'd been carrying on the counter of the nurse's station. "I wouldn't be on it. My family thinks I'm dead. It's complicated."

He—uh... what?

"My name's Link," he answered her nonetheless before entering her patient's room.

Link? Huh. That was...

Wait a second.

"Hey, are you one of my brother's friends?" Fable asked as she followed him into the room.

"Your brother?"

"Link. Likes to call himself Legend to differentiate," she replied with an amused roll of her eyes.

Link gawked at her. "You're Legend's sister? He never even said he had a sister!"

"You two are alike," Fable huffed. "He doesn't particularly want a bunch of people to know he's related to me. But never mind that. Go talk to your dad."

Link stood there a moment, processing the words, before he exhaled shakily and nodded. Fable moved to the computer, working on catching up on charting to give him some privacy but also keep an eye on things. This patient's safety was her responsibility, after all.

Link seemed almost timid to approach the patient, even though he knew he was sedated. He slowly slid his hand into the older man's, shakily and quietly saying, "Hey, Papa. I... I, uh... I-I..."

Fable glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing the young man getting tearful, and she tried to focus on her work once more.

"I missed you," Link whispered. "I'm s-sorry... about... about everything."

She heard a sniffle, and then the transporter moved quickly out of the room, offering her a brief but quick thanks before disappearing.

Fable turned towards the doorway, and then looked at her patient uncertainly. That was... odd.

Sighing, she walked up to the man, brushing hair out of his face. "Buddy, your family drama sounds almost as crazy as mine."

[resus-pieces]

Are You Sure

Original here by get-the-paddles81

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“I've been dreaming about this.”

“Me too.”

Ellen smiled and kissed me. She flipped her long raven black hair out of her face, batted an eyebrow, then reached over and flicked the power on the EKG monitor.

I began to strip out of my street clothes. She grabbed my arms and began to assist. First unbuttoning my shirt, then pulling my t-shirt over my head. Before I could reach for my pants, she pushed me towards the bed next to the monitor. I sat.

She pulled out a packet of EKG tabs, tore them open, and began applying them to my chest one by one. The cool gel at the center of each sent a rush of adrenaline through my system and sped up my heart beat. She connected them to the monitor next to her bed.

71 beats per minute.

Ellen smiled and rubbed at the crotch of my pants.

“Already getting excited, are we?”

I didn't need to answer. She could feel.

“Lay down.”

I obeyed.

“I want to tie you down.”

“Okay.”

She reached into the same drawer that had housed her EKG tabs, and produced a set of soft, black rope handcuffs. First she restrained my right wrist to the head board of the bed, then my left.

Running her hand down my body, she unzipped my pants and pulled them down, spending an agonizingly long time slowly rubbing over my hardening cock.

Down to my undershorts, she climbed atop me and kissed me again.

“I'll be back. Don't go anywhere.”

I chuckled.

As she disappeared behind the closed door to her bathroom, I focused on the EKG, reading every one of my heart beats. I'd never fallen into the category of a cardiophile – I was chasing the resus - but in the moment, I found it entrancing.

Minutes passed, and my heart beat slowed. I felt drowsy.

Why was I getting so tired?

65 beats per minute.

60.

55.

50.

“Almost ready. Don't arrest until I get back,” Ellen called from the bathroom.

Arrest? This is not what we had discussed. She was supposed to stop my heart with the paddles.

I tried to pull at the restraints, but I was too weak.

The door opened.

Knee-high patent leather stiletto boots. Fishnet stockings with garters connected to black crotchless panties. A pastel blue corset. Her raven hair pulled back tight. Thick black eyeliner – winged - with smokey eyelids and long, false lashes. Heavy, dark blush. Jet black lips. A tiny diamond stud on her right nostril and a diamond hoop in her septum. My domantrix doctor.

“How do I look?”

I struggled to get words out.

“Perfect. Am I dying?”

“Yes, but I'm going to bring you back.”

She came to my bedside. God, she was perfect.

“I put something in your drink at dinner. Slow acting. We've still got some time.”

She pulled down my undershorts. My heart was slowing, but my cock was still rock hard.

“Better make sure these are ready to go.”

Ellen produced several syringes from her special drawer. She laid it out next to the defibrillator.

Then she grabbed the paddles.

“I don't know if I want your heart to stop first, or if I want to stop it.”

I tried to speak. I couldn't.

40 beats per minute.

“Lady's choice. First thing's first though.”

She laid her jet black lips to my unresponsive ones, kissing and tugging at them with her teeth. Grinding on my cock.

She eased her hips over me and slid down my shaft.

As she sat on my cock, she leaned over and grabbed the conductive gel. Slathering it on, she then rubbed the pads together and slid them onto my chest.

35 beats per minute.

She started bouncing on my cock.

Harder.

Faster.

30 beats per minute.

She moaned loud.

If my heart had been working properly, I know I would've enjoyed the orgasm more.

She kept working my cock as it dry heaved deep inside her.

“My turn.”

She slid off, and in the smoothest motion I've ever seen, set the defibrillator to charge to 200 joules, placed the paddles on my chest, and shocked me.

For 15 years, I'd wondered if being shocked would feel as good as it looked.

It did.

The electricity tore through me. The sensation was incredible - I felt it in every part of my body. I could hardly contain the pleasure. Like the best orgasm I'd ever had, just moments ago, but multiplied by 50.

My eyes relaxed. They stared straight up. I could no longer move them.

The EKG rang out – asystole.

Ellen put the paddles back in the cradle.

“You're mine now.”

I couldn't look, but I could hear – she went back to her drawer.

She re-entered my vision with a straight blade and an ET tube.

Goddamnit, she was amazing – she was going to intubate me.

She stroked my cheek lovingly.

I felt the blade go in my mouth and the tube go down inside me. She secured it with a Thomas holder.

Expecting her to start bagging me, she leaned in and wrapped her black lips around the tube and blew in.

I wanted to orgasm again.

She blew in one more time, then nuzzled close to me and nibbled at my ears a bit.

“I have to put a back board under you. CPR is worthless on a soft mattress.”

Out of my vision she went.

She rolled me towards the EKG, so I could see myself flatlining.

The backboard was cold.

“Alright, are you ready?”

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Ellen crushed my heart between my sternum and my spine. I enjoyed it less than the shocks, but I loved watching her tower over me. Her eyes locked to mine. My life completely in her hands.

“Here comes the Epi. This stuff is expensive. Please don't make me use two.”

She slammed the needle into my heart. It stung.

As she pressed the plunger on the syringe, I felt warmth spreading though my torso.

More compressions. Her perfect breasts bounced beneath the cradle of her corset.

She wrapped her lips around my ET tube and blew in two more times.

“Come on. Get that heart shaking for me.”

The warmth of the epi continued to spread, but the flatline tone continued.

More compressions. She seemed more aggressive now.

Still flatline.

“Okay, one more epi. But you have to revive me the next two weekends.”

I think I can manage that.

My chest went from warm to hot.

More compressions. More deep breaths from her black lips.

The tone on the EKG changed.

“Okay my dear, half the battle won. Charging paddles...”

She picked up the pads.

“No sense in dilly-dallying with a low setting. Let's go right to 360 this time, shall we?”

Ellen applied more gel to the still-shiny capacitors.

“Shocking.”

BAM! My body took off like a rocket. The hot feeling of the epi gave way to white flame engulfing my body.

The EKG made a different sound. A few beeps..

I felt something in my groin.

“Honey... you just ejaculated again! How...”

Just as quickly as the beeps started, an alarm returned.

“Ugh. Not going to be easy at all, are you? 360 again... shocking!”

BAM!

The alarm went from angry to furious.

“No! No! Don't you do that!”

I knew the sound of a flatline tone.

Ellen climbed back aboard my body and blew two more breaths into my tube, then ran her hands down my cheeks, my throat, before settling on my chest.

Re-interlocking her fingers, she resumed her assault.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

For the first time, the edges of my vision went blurry.

Was I dying? Like, not just clinically dying, but dying-dying?

Things got a little darker. Ellen's voice had an echo about it. But the EKG sounded different. V-fib?

“Going again at 360... come back to me!”

BAM!

“Again!”

BAM!

“Goddamn you, again!”

BAM!

Total blackness.

And then my eyes opened.

It was no longer night. Sun shined through the blinds.

A gentle beep, beep, beep from the bedside EKG.

The ET tube was still in, but nothing was connected to it. I was breathing on my own.

I turned my head to the EKG. 67 beats per minute.

I turned my head the other way.

Ellen looked at me lovingly. The dominatrix doctor was gone. Her face was freshly scrubbed. No more smokey eyes or black lips. She had had changed to a flannel pajama top. The clip on septum ring was gone, but she'd kept the diamond nose stud.

She stroked my cheek again. Then she rubbed the jewel glued to her nose.

“I like the nose stud. Should I get a real one?”

I squinted and pointed at the ET tube.

She giggled.

“I had to shock you five times at 360 to get you back.”

I gestured at the ET tube.

She giggled again.

“You want it out? It looks good on you.”

She came out from under the sheets, and climbed atop me again. She leaned in and wrapped her lips around the tube. The first time she blew into it, I was out of sync with her. But the second, third, and fourth were perfect.

She smiled.

“Cough.”

I coughed, and she pulled hard on the tube.

My coughing fit seemed to last forever.

“How did it feel?”

I smiled.

“Incredible.”

“How much do you remember?”

“Everything.”

She rolled back on top of me and kissed me like the first time she kissed me.

“Next time, it's my turn.”

I pushed her off.

“The next two times. And I have some ideas.”

[dreamscapesofimagination]

A/n: there is no love here yet for Jiro and i need to fix that bc mans is my top fav. We love a tall, sciencey man w hot girl tummy problems over here.

Formatted weird bc I am on mobile!

TW: Fluff! Jiro is a bit insecure. He is also head over heels. Ending kinda sucks bc i couldn't think of how to end it lol

Synopsis: Jiro thought he knew a lot about you- average blood pressure, enzyme values, how your lungs sounded beneath the stethoscope- turns out you are also a talented artist.

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

The floorboards creaked as Jiro stepped inside, thankful Yuri had been awake this morning to give him his medication before he had to come do this health check.

Without his meds, he knew he would have to scurry away quickly, and his condition would prevent him from sharing a small breakfast with you.

He didn't quite understand his feelings for you- sure, he knew how endorphins rushed through his system around you and triggered the increase of his heart rate.

He knew the scientific reasons behind his attraction- he just didn't know how to react to it. The two of you had been in limbo- not quite together but closer than just friends.

He knew you reacted the same to him- could see it in the way your heart rate would be erratic on the EKG when he would do it (Yuri had banned him from being around when your heart rate or blood pressure were monitered, and today Jiro was just to draw blood and ensure you appeared well) , or the way your cheeks would warm up when his fingers brushed your skin.

His eyes scanned the church, taking in the homey feeling you had created since moving in.

Plants littered some of the pews, and you had cushions placed around for the cats.

He could hear the shower running, and assumed you were in there. While he waited, he wandered across the old room to set his bag on the desk.

He began pulling out his supplies, before sighing when he realized he had forgotten his pen.

Surely you had one in one of the drawers?

He slid the top one open, eyes widening at what he saw.

A drawing.

Of him.

He carefully pulled out the sketchbook, unable to take his eyes from the drawing as his heart hammered in his chest.

He looked focused in the drawing, and he imagined you had drawn him from one of the times he had helped you study.

Flipping to another page, he felt as if he couldn't breath.

Him again, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

You had talent, and you used it to draw him, a chronically ill ghoul who struggled to hold conversations even with people he liked.

"Jiro?" the sound of your voice caused him to whirl around, guilty he had been snooping.

His breath caught at the sight of you standing there, in a tanktop and pair of shorts, toweling off your hair.

"I-uh- I was just waiting for you to finish, Yuri sent me to take some blood samples and make sure you are well,"

He winced internally at his stumbling words, feeling his stomach turn at his increased anxiety.

"I don't mind you looking at them, you're just so pretty and I wanted to draw you," a blush coated your cheeks at your admission.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, feeling his own cheeks burn.

You thought he was pretty? Half the time his already pale complexion was sickly due to his condition (and lack of sleep), circles that nearly matched his hair rimmed his eyes- not to mention his frequent bouts of nausea.

He jumped when your hand waved infront of his face, so lost in his own thoughts that your closeness had gone unnoticed.

"Ji, you okay? I'm sorry if I weirded you out." your voice was sheepish and oh so sweet, round cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He quickly shook his head, "no, you just surprised me. I've never really had someone be interested in me."

Jiro's voice was matter-of-fact, and clearly he was not searching for sympathy.

He had accepted his differences, and his schedule didn't exactly leave room for romance- nor did Yuri think such frivoloties were necessary. It wasn't until he met you that the consideration that he may be missing out had even entered his thoughts.

Yuri had even noticed, urging Jiro to just ask you out if only to stop distracting him with his 'mournful, pathetic expression and moony-eyed stares.'

Jiro had never really noticed nor cared about the captains absence of bed-side manner, though that comment had made him very aware of it.

"Well, now you do. I know you're very busy, but maybe one of the times you're free you'd like to do something?" you chewed your lip as you asked, n action he had long since learned you did when you were unsure of yourself.

An action that caused all his attention to fall to your lips, wondering what they would feel like.

"I think that would be enjoyable," his words came out softer than he intended, and your bright smile after his words caused his already hammering heart to nearly stop.

He wasn't sure he'd survive a date with you, but he would need to be incapacitated to not accept the offer.

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 1 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY: A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 1: “Frequency”

WORD COUNT: 5,118

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Mentions of suicide, mental illness, rape, and self harm. Foul language. Mentions of sex, or sexual innuendos. 

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments or concerns. 

This is introductory, we do not meet Soldier Boy just yet. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors.

Masterlist

I was pumped full of V at Vought Laboratories when I was born. My mother took a thousand dollar bribe for some dope in exchange for her newborn daughter. They placed me in a NICU unit, hooked my veins up, and hoped for the best. 

The scientists were worried at first. I showed no physical symptoms of compound V. There were no laser eyes, no fire aura, no electricity flowing from my fingertips. They kept their tabs on me. Ran test after test. Colic. They said I had colic. I cried over everything. There was no consolation. They thought I was a lost cause. Ready to pretend like this test subject never existed. A late term abortion ex-utero. Thank God a few of the doctors started catching on. 

It was door slams. Creaking floors. Burners boiling. Cleaning supplies. Microwave lunches. Music from a few floors down. The overhead lights. Open windows. High blood pressure. A baby crying. Tuna fish sandwiches. Bleh. Spoiled milk. Fireworks. Gunshots from the Police Academy in upstate New York. Ship horns. Cigarette smoke. Low blood sugar. An earthquake in Siberia. Nuclear detonation testing in the Pacific ocean. Car horns. Rush hour. 

See, they didn’t notice my abnormalities because they weren’t seen by the naked eye. They weren’t paralyzing mind tricks. Compound V took every ounce of my five senses and shot them up with gasoline, tequila, adrenaline, cocaine. A high voltage defibrillator to my nervous system. As if my sinuses were stapled open. As if my eardrums were plucked out by tweezers. I heard everything, even with my ears plugged. I saw everything, even with my eyes closed. I tasted everything, even with my mouth shut. I was everything, everywhere, all at once, and for an infant, that can be overwhelming. 

As I grew older, I was still kept in the lab until they were fully aware of my capabilities. Until they had studied every strand of DNA in my body. 

I didn’t have super strength, I didn’t have superpowers. They made sure of that. One time they strapped me to a chair, sticking ekgs on my chest. I passed out before they could even run a test. I could never stand velcro. 

Frequency is what I was called. My supe name, at least. They called me Freaq for short. Which I guess if you think about it, isn’t really a lie.

My hearing was my most valuable asset. What’s this radio frequency? They’d ask. Can you make out the voice in this? Is this a bomb or just a backpack? Listen in on this meeting. I need collateral. We have to know everything that’s said. Is this person lying? Is that person lying? Keep in mind, these were the tasks I was given at around six or seven. It was easier for them then too because I was so small. I would slide into the air vents and stay as quiet as I could, absorbing as much information as possible. I’d spew it back to them like a pawn.

Teen years the work really started. They’d be strong in their threats to others. People would get hurt. People would have their lives ruined. I’d spy on them for weeks, getting all the information I could. Listening in on their most intimate conversations. Their most profound, and personal moments. I’d spew it all back to Vought. And they’d use what I’d told them as collateral.

Thanks to my hearing, thanks to my sight, I was able to snipe better than any experienced veteran. I never even needed to use the scope. For the most part I would snap my fingers, or click my tongue, and sense the vibration of the objects around me. I’d shoot whatever I needed to right between the eyes. Everytime.  To this day I still can't get the sound of hot, metal rounds, piercing through brain matter out of my head.  Me stealing the life of a defenseless victim who unluckily got caught up in the mess. Even when I plugged my ears, screaming, nothing kept me safe from the deafening silence from their no longer beating heart. I was never caught. 

I had been cursed. By God? By Vought? Who knows. Mothers mourning the loss of their stillborn child. Smelling the cancer in people who walked by me on the street, on the way to pick up their young child from school. Gang violence. Break ups. A father beating his son to a pulp for not taking out the trash that day. Suicide. A young woman, screaming, begging for him to stop. This takes a toll on a young kid. No one should be forced to listen to the struggles of others, we have enough to deal with on our own. Hell, I’m sure if I focused hard enough, I could've heard the sound of my mother crying out to me, sullen and alone, from her perch on a rundown curbside. 

I had lost it, as expected. Cutting, acting out, pathetic suicide attempts. It got bad enough to where they had to isolate me off somewhere in Appalachia. Somewhere I could enjoy the peace and quiet. The nurturing lull of nature. Waterfalls, and animals, and the rustle of trees in the Eastern winds. Native music, and arts and crafts underneath a big, red harvest moon. I could see every crater out that far in the mountains. There was no light pollution. That was always the best part. If I looked hard enough, sometimes I could see Saturn's rings without a telescope. Of course they’d still call my handlers whenever they needed me, they weren’t that concerned for my wellbeing. But hey, at least I no longer had to deal with the sounds of the city on my off days. 

I had learned to resent Vought, which is understandable, and honestly a given. I mean what did they expect? I was cursed, to say the least. Every day was torture, and unpredictabe, even when I was all the way out in West Virginia. Some nights I’d hear a distant shotgun fire, and torpedo into the heart of a beautiful buck, with a sleepy, quiet family waiting for him a few hundred yards away in a clearing.

I wanted nothing more than to watch these people crash and burn. To listen to each and every one of them take their last breath. The only deaths I could, or would ever enjoy. The sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I could get off to it. And I would surely avenge that. That was a promise. 

After I turned eighteen I did end up getting a place back in the city. Which is where I am now. I cope with the overstimulation in my desperation for revenge. A desperation so wild and intense I would do anything. I would do absolutely anything to get what I want. 

The Homelander would tour the labs after his graduation every once and a while as I was growing up. He’d be intimidating. Stiff, and brooding. No one would ever amount to the power he held. None of us would ever become the specimen that he was. I’d look up at him with innocent, wide eyes. His body always sounded different than everyone else's. His organs moved with a horsepower. It was like his body took diesel. No one's insides ever sounded like his. I could feel the vibration of his cells dividing from half a mile away. He was so enchanting to a little gifted girl like me.

“What’s this one?”

“Heightened senses, Sir.”

“All five?”

“Yes. We find her hearing very promising.”

He had hummed in response. Staring back at me with an emptiness I’d get to know very well. He had only gotten worse since then. 

After I had moved back to New York, Vought would still use me on occasion, but for the most part they just saw me as damaged goods. I was invited to parties, and events multiple times, and got paraded around like a fucking circus freak. Advisors would bestow me upon rich donors. “Ooh, let me stand across the room! I want you to guess what I’m saying.” I’d shake my head. There was no “guessing”. It was a stupid game if you ask me. They could have stood twenty miles away and it still wouldn't be much of a challenge. 

I had felt him before I heard him.

“Repetitive, huh?”

I didn't even have to look at the donor across the room to know he was saying "orange". He had the audacity to whisper too. Your money paid for this, I thought. Don’t you have a little faith in me being more than a party trick?

“Yes, actually.” I said, turning around to see the symbol of patriotism.

“I didn’t know you had moved back to the city.”

I looked at him with the same eyes I did all those years ago, and he still stared back at me just as broken.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for a few months now.”

He placed a hand on my lower back. My skin tingling from the brush of his augmented fingertips. He walked me over to one of the large windows that overlooked the skyline. I had worn a tight dress, which he had taken notice of. 

“You’re not so little anymore.”

I had laughed at that. 

“If I’m honest I can’t remember the last time I felt like it.” 

He looked at me with a gleam of recognition. Realizing we weren’t so different. Sure, he could break my spine if he clapped too hard, but we were both stripped of the innocence we so desperately needed. John and I were never friends, we were just two children starved of loving parental affection. 

And now, a few years later, I sit perched on his lap. My legs falling off either side of his sturdy frame. His hands don't touch me. But he is smiling softly. His eyes glazed over and heavy. His nose rubs mine as I whisper to him. My hips moving up and down on the heat of his crotch. 

“Do you like what I’m wearing?” 

He tilts his head down, his thumbs sliding across the trim of my black lace underwear. He hums, a goofy smile spreading across his face. 

“I do,” I brush my lips against his, his teeth catching on the skin of my cupid's bow. “Although, I can’t help but think there is an ulterior motive here.”

My eyes shoot open, glaring at him. He's still smiling at me. 

“I needed you…” I’m an awful liar. 

He takes a deep breath in through his nostrils. Placing two big hands under my ass while he fixes his posture on the chair. He cradles the back of my head, lacing rough fingers into my hair. Pulling me back until I’m looking him in the eyes.

“What do you want?” He asks plainly. I sigh, rolling my eyes, trying to pry myself out of his grip. “You know this doesn’t work on me.”

He pulls me tighter, my hair follicles hanging on to my scalp by sheer luck. I whimper, the feeling knocking the breath out of me for a second. 

“You come up here to see me, of all people, wearing this pretty little get up.”

He uses his other hand to pull my lower half closer into his, wrapping his arm around my waist. My ribs could turn to dust under this vice grip.

“You know what I’m here to ask for.”

“We’ve been over this so many times now.” He tsks at me. “Tell me what’s in it for me, and I’ll consider it.”

I glare at him. This routine is like clockwork by this point. I come to him with a plan for revenge and he shoots me down everytime. I know he agrees with me, I know he wants it just as bad as I do, but this is his leverage. He can be so fucking evil. 

“Does the idea of getting back at these people not give you a hard on?”

He laughs at me, releasing his vice grip. I pull myself off of him, walking over to my jeans discarded on the floor. 

“Now why would I, of all people, want to get back at Vought?”

I pull my tight jeans up, one leg at a time. He walks over to me, looking down as I button my pants.

“You would be fine without them. Fuckin’ buddhist monks have your photo up at shrines in the himalayas for Christs sake.”

I walk past him, grabbing my shirt from off the ground. He slaps my ass as I pass by.

“I’ll think about it.” He suggests. I roll my eyes- he won’t. 

I pull my hair out of the neckline of my shirt. He stands in front of me, his gloved fingers pulling out my necklace. He adjusts it so the clasp is back where it needs to be. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Just the scientists that worked with Vogelbaum.” I whisper.

He brings his hand up to my chin, pinching it with his thumb. He places an out of character, gentle, chaste kiss to my lips. 

“...And Stan Edgar, and all the other top Vought executives…” He teases.

“No!” I pout.

“Yes,” He taunts. “And last time I checked you are perfectly capable of taking these people out all by yourself, one at a time, without ever getting caught.”

He's trying to pull it out of me. He knows why I need his help. He’s so smug. He wants to hear me say it. 

“Why do you really want my help?” He torments. 

I sigh, moving to grab my purse from off the chair in the corner of his living room. He stops me, gripping my wrist tight into his hand. I glare at him. Anything but this, I think. I would never beg him for anything…but I do.

“The gala…in the Summer,” I mumble, defeated. “Everyone will be there, even the scientists.”

“Ah, yes, the gala. Being applauded for their efforts in the creation of Temp V.” He smiles. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

I shake my head, making my way back over to his front door. He doesn’t stop me this time, too satisfied in his successful grilling. 

“One of us has lasers for eyes, John, and it’s not me.”

“Why would I want to ruin my own party?”

Before I leave I turn to him, pointing my finger. My eyes welling up with tears. Why does he do this? Hes been fucked over by Vought more than I have.

“All of them are going to be there at the same time. In the same building. We could end this, we could fucking destroy these monsters, once and for all.”

He glowers at me.

“Compound V made me a hero.” He argues.

“Compound V made you despicable,” I counter. “You’d finally be a real man without them.”

I open the door, him tripping at my heels.

“Vought made me a God.”

“Made you a sad fuckin’ excuse for one. Come find me when you grow a pair of balls.”

I slam the door in his face. 

I met Billy Butcher at a speakeasy a little over a year ago. He was downing a bottle of whiskey at the bar. It was only 2PM. 

“William, I’m assuming,” I reached my hand out for a shake. “A little early for the bottle don't you think?”

He looked down at my gesture, ignored it, then slammed his booze back on the counter. 

“Freak, I'm assuming?” He had added an obnoxious emphasis to the ‘K’.

I nodded, pursing my lips. Extending my awkward, unshook hand back into my pocket. 

He reeked, and I mean, reeked. His insides had smelt like a nuclear bomb had gone off. His liver was already in the later stages of decomposition, to say the least. His eyes were sunken in, and dark around the edges. Irritated too. Like he'd been rubbing them raw. 

I took note of his entire presence, leaning over to the left a tad to take in all sides of his bloated, depressed body. I looked closer. His right ear was oozing what looked like old blood. It was black, like tar. It didn’t smell like blood though. It was pungent and harsh, almost similar to ammonia- radiation, maybe? The nuclear bomb inside him, I considered. 

“You have black rot coming out of your ear,” I stated plainly. He had reached his hand over to wipe it. “It’s disgusting, whatever it is. I’ve never smelt anything like that before. You should really think about getting that checked out.”

He ignored me, picking up a napkin, and wiping his tar-coated hand on it. 

“Let's get down to business, ey?” 

“Alright.” I added. Breathing through my mouth wouldn’t have helped either, I thought. 

“Me and the boys are going to Herogasm.”

“Congratulations. I’d recommend cleaning those ears out before you go.” I said, unimpressed. 

He rolled his eyes, then looked around the room. No one was in there besides a bartender, and an old man asleep at a rounded booth. He leaned in closer to me. 

That's when I caught it- a familiar scent. I couldn’t put my finger on it. A certain chemical compound I remember smelling often during my recent visits to the tower. 

“Look, to make a long story short, I got ten grand with your name on it, and a party infested with obnoxious supes. I need you to sit at high ground, and keep watch.”

“Why don’t you get one of your boys to do it?” I grill.

“None of ‘em have aim like you, sweetheart.” He said it with such a shit-eating grin.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m flattered, truly.”

He took a deep breath, getting even closer, I could feel his hot breath on my ear.

“We’re going to be...taking him out.”

I looked at him, hard. I squinted my eyes. Listening in on his slow, heavy heartbeat. His unrelenting, static blood pressure. He wasn’t lying, I thought. He knew better than to anyway. 

“Good luck with that,” I chuckled, beginning to stand up to leave. Had he lost his mind? I thought. I didn’t have the time for this. Plus, thinking hard on it, I didn’t even know if I had wanted John to die. I had people to get revenge on, y’know?

“We have a weapon,” He added, yanking my arm back down, nearly pulling it out of its socket. “The same one that killed Soldier Boy.”

The blood had rushed out of my face then. He really was serious. I looked around, trying to focus on anything, but my thoughts were racing, and my eyes had gone cloudy. 

“Want to know something even crazier?” He probed. “The weapon is Soldier Boy. The cunt was still alive. Had to fight a handful of Ivans to get the bastard out.”

“That's impossible,” I laughed, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Soldier Boy died in Nicaragua.” 

“Ten thousand big ones for a few hours of your time, sweetheart.” He smiled.

I swallowed hard, grabbing his bottle from off the counter and taking a big swig. 

“You have to make me a promise,” I held my finger in his face. “If homelander dies, you and your boys have to help me finish something.”

He put his hand out for a shake. 

“Anything you need.” He grinned.

“Anything I need if he dies.” I nodded along, grabbing his hand, my mind off worrying, my eyes glazed over with fear. 

“Anything you need when the cunt dies.” 

And that’s when I had smelled it, the Temp V. My eyes widened at him. Now that explained why his organs were rotting. The bastard had been shooting up liquid radiation into his veins in a lame attempt to put up an equal fight. His grip tightened around mine, threatening to shatter my wrist. 

“I’ll give you the address, you’ll need your own car. Don’t be seen by anyone.” He declared, beginning to stand up from his stool.

“I wasn't born yesterday,” I mocked. “And by the way, if you do any more of that Temp V, you can go ahead and sign your death certificate.”

As we all know, that plan never worked. Homelander survived, and Soldier Boy is off somewhere frozen solid, I’m assuming. I never ended up getting the chance to see either of them that day, my shitty car ended up breaking down on the side of the road only twenty miles out of the city. Maybe it was for the best, I thought. A lot of people died that day. 

And so here I am, a year later, still willing to help him, but now for a different reason. If John wasn’t going to help me with my plan, Butcher and the boys surely will. 

Butcher had told me to meet him at a sketchy apartment building in the Bronx, so here I was. Looking around, there isn't much to see. Piles of trash and hoards of rancid homeless people litter the streets. Gross, I think. Why can’t the city grant these invalids a communal shower or something? Doesn’t the mayor know some people can practically smell atoms? 

Before I buzz in for him, I catch the wind and listen for their lingering voices upstairs. They are on the roof, and I think by the heartbeats I can count four- no- five. There are five of them, and one of them is definitely a woman. Her heart is delicate, small. But pumped full of V? I think. It thumps with an exertion only jacked supes would understand. Sounds like a panic attack waiting to happen, if you ask me. 

“Any of you ever use one of these before?” A voice asks. 

“Eh, maybe a rifle but not a scope.” Someone replies, an accent thick...present.

“Frenchie, hasn’t she had combat training?”

“Combat training, yes, but not a fucking sniper.”

“Butcher, would you come over here please? Hughie, would you grab him?”

A giant group of idiots, I think. Maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea after all. I pull my hands into a finger gun and shoot it into my open mouth. This is going to be a long night.

I walk over to the entrance, looking down at my phone. Butcher is taking too long to answer me. I slap the side of the code box, listening to the stops on the inside. A thicker metal, and rusted too. But I can still make it out. 1111? Really? No wonder everyone gets robbed on this side of town. 

Typing in the code, I begin to saunter my way upstairs. I'm slouched over and panting by the time I reach the top floor. Man, it’s times like these where I wish I could’ve been V-blessed with some fucking stamina. Fuck you Vought. I slip my way out onto the rooftop. Everyone's heads fly around to see me as I walk towards the group. 

“Could you guys be any fucking louder?” I ask, walking right up to Butcher. He smiles down at me.

“Glad to see you’re in a good mood this evening.”

I roll my eyes, “Too bad I could smell your insides rotting from half a mile away.” I pat him on the shoulder as I walk by, heading towards the man at the edge of the roof with a rifle. 

“Butcher, what the fuck?” The scrawny one asks.

“He doesn’t bring too many girls around, huh?” I say. 

“Who the fuck is this?” The French one questions. 

Butcher smiles as I go up to the man holding the gun. I shoo him away, squatting down, and placing my finger on the trigger. I squint my eyes and look down the scope. 

“Which one is it?” I ask.

Butcher comes over, squatting next to me, as well as the guy who was holding the gun before. 

“Blue tie,” Says butcher. “Bad haircut.”

“Balding or buzzed?” 

“Neither. Short mullet.” He adds.

I nod, and suddenly stand up, moving to another spot on the rooftop.

“What the fuck are you doing? I just spent two hours setting that spot up!”

“The glass is bulletproof,” I state. “Can’t you see the reflection?”

I start laughing then, “I mean, can’t you hear the way it sounds as the wind gusts off of it? There might as well be a sign.”

He looks at me quizzically, they all do. It usually takes a second for most people to recall my pathetic existence. 

“This window here must've just been replaced, because it’s temporary. Not bulletproof, and frankly, not strong wind proof either. This thing is just asking to be shattered.”

I crouch down again, squinting my eyes, and looking down the scope. I hold my hand up, snapping quietly. In fractions of a second, I can feel, hear, and see sound waves bouncing off of every nearby surface. They rush through the open air towards the glass window, bouncing off, only then to reverberate around the inside. It wraps around the target's stature like a sheet in the wind. Bullseye. I pull the trigger, hitting him directly between the eyes. We all watch as all hell breaks loose within whatever party I just ruined. 

I stand up, handing the rifle over to Butcher. I wipe my hands off on my pants.

“We have five minutes before a swat team barrels up here. Do you mind if we talk in private?”

Butcher nods, he and I both begin to walk downstairs. Everyone grabs their stuff, and from the scrawny boy I hear a snap, like he's finally put his finger on it. 

“Frequency!” Ego boost, I think. “God, that makes so much sense.” 

That recognition hasn’t happened in a while. I'm embarrassed to say I’m beginning to blush.

The french one nods to him, “A freak of fucking nature. That is a hell of a gift.”

A hell of a curse, he means. If only they knew the half of it. The boys chuckle as Butcher and I disappear into a dark alley. There are sirens in the distance.

“I need a favor.” I say, stopping and turning to him. The only thing illuminating us is a musty street light. It's hazy and orange. He looks down at me with damp skin. His body is trying it’s hardest to detoxify itself. There is no use. 

“What's that, love?” He chuckles, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He brings one up to his lips, inhaling and lighting. He gestures the pack to me. I shake my head. I always end up tasting the pesticides. 

“Look, I’ve asked everyone. You and your boys are the only thing I have left.”

“Well, spit it out then.” He coughs.

I take a deep breath, looking down at my shoe and kicking a little rock with the toe of it. 

“I want revenge on Vought.”

“Get in line sweetheart.” I roll my eyes at him, why does everyone always say that?

“But listen, I have the perfect idea,” I explain. “Over the summer they will be throwing a huge event in celebration over the success of Temp-V. I’m sure almost, if not all of the major Vought scientists will be there. Oh, and executives too. And all of the supes we all hate as well.”

He watches me as I talk, just smoking his cigarette. He’s hard to read these days. His expression is always pained. Not surprising though, I can literally hear his body decomposing. 

“I just- this is my best chance to get back at these people for cursing me. For making my life, and everyone else's life a living hell. Think about it, you can avenge your wife!"

“Why don’t you ask the big man in the sky?” He scoffs.

“I did, he said no.”

“Well, there is your answer from me.”

“I’m sorry?” I glare at him, appalled. “Last time I checked all you wanted to do was avenge your wife! Say 'fuck you' to Vought, and to Homelander. Why do you suddenly have cold feet?”

He reaches around me, placing an arm on my shoulder. He begins to walk me down the alleyway. 

“If the cunt says no, then it’s a no. We show up there ready to blow a crater into the ground, he’ll be the first to know. You know better than I do that he ain’t gonna like it. Also, we got ties to the FBI and the CIA. The last thing they need is for their agents that are integrated within Vought to be a part of Supe 9/11.”

“You’re telling me the CIA isn't looking for an excuse to destroy these bastards?”

“They are,” He smiles. “Just in a way that won’t have a trail leading back to ‘em.”

We’re at the opening of the alley now. Police cars fly by as they respond to the murder I just committed a few blocks away. I should be in the clear, I’m hearing a lot of “Arab Supe-Terrorist” static over the vibrations of police radio. 

“Get Soldier Boy back, thatll make it even easier for everyone. They can just blame it on him.”

“That’ll come back on ‘em too, Love. They have him hidden with a frostbitten dick at a military compound. If the cunt got out on their terms they’d never hear the end of it.” 

Huzzah, I think. Now that is a good idea. I go to shake his hand. If he's gonna reject me too, I guess there is only one thing left to do.

“Where'd they end up keeping him anyway? My bets on upstate.” I question.

He squeezes my hand tight, smiling at me mischievously. 

“I know better than to tell ‘ya that, sweetheart.”

I laugh, not genuinely, more out of frustration by this point.

“Right,” I say, beginning to walk off in the direction of my subway. “Let me know if you are ever need any of my services. You know where to reach me.” 

He walks off the opposite way, his radioactive stench leaving a trail behind him. The plot thickens. Soldier Boy is upstate alright. And if no one is willing to help me, then I’ll just have to do it myself.

Masterlist | Episode 2

[sexhaver]

i joined this facebook group for users of a "rife energy" healing system scam so i could laugh at them but it's consistently been nothing but depressing. people asking why hooking little EKG pads up to a waveform generator and sticking them on their fingers isn't curing their cavities and being reassured that they just need to wait a bit longer. and those are the more upbeat cases. usually you see stuff like this:

these users don't usually stick around for very long. i wonder why.

[trans-axolotl]

some of Eli Clare's writing about diagnosis feels very relevant to discussions on tumblr right now:

"It’s impossible to grapple with cure without encountering white Western medical diagnosis—ink on paper in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders and the International Classification of Diseases, a process in the hands of doctors, a system of categorization. I want to read diagnosis as a source of knowledge, sometimes trustworthy and other times suspect. As a tool and a weapon shaped by particular belief systems, useful and dangerous by turns. As a furious storm, exerting pressure in many directions.

Simply put, diagnosis wields immense power. It can provide us access to vital medical technology or shame us, reveal a path toward less pain or get us locked up. It opens doors and slams them shut.

Diagnosis names the conditions in our body-minds, charts the connections between them. It holds knowledge. It organizes visceral realities. It draws borders and boundaries, separating fluid in the lungs from high blood pressure, ulcers from kidney stones, declaring anxiety attacks distinct from heart attacks, post-traumatic stress disconnected from depression. It legitimizes some pain as real; it identifies other pain as psychosomatic or malingering. It reveals little about the power of these borders and boundaries. Through its technology—x-rays, MRIs, blood draws, EKGs, CAT scans—diagnosis transforms our three-dimensional body-minds into two-dimensional graphs and charts, images on light boards, symptoms in databases, words on paper. It holds history and creates baselines. It predicts the future and shapes all sorts of decisions. It unleashes political and cultural forces. At its best, diagnosis affirms our distress, orients us to what’s happening in our body-minds, helps make meaning out of chaotic visceral experiences.

But diagnosis rarely stays at its best. It can also disorient us or de- value what we know about ourselves. It can leave us with doubts, questions, shame. It can catapult us out of our body-minds. All too often diagnosis is poorly conceived or flagrantly oppressive. It is brandished as authority, our body-minds bent to match diagnostic criteria rather than vice versa. Diagnosis can become a cover for what health care providers don’t understand; become more important than our messy visceral selves; become the totality of who we are.

...

It is impossible to name all the ways in which diagnosis is useful.

It propels eradication and affirms what we know about our own body-minds. It extends the reach of genocide and makes meaning of the pain that keeps us up night after night. It allows for violence in the name of care and creates access to medical technology, human services, and essential care. It sets in motion social control and guides treatment that provides comfort. It takes away self-determination and saves lives. It disregards what we know about our own body-minds and leads to cure.

Diagnosis is useful, but for whom and to what ends?"

-Eli Clare, Brilliant Imperfection pg 41-42, 48.

[vintagerpg]

Escape the Dark Sector (2020) is Themeborne’s science fiction themed follow-up to Escape the Dark Castle. It introduces a number of new mechanics, but at the core, the experience is largely the same: escape your cell, explore the station, try not to die, then probably die, because it is still really hard to not die!

Dark Sector adds some tactics to the mix. The players can, if they have ranged weapons, opt for ranged combat before closing in for hand-to-hand. One character per round can opt to flank for a bonus. While in ranged combat, too, you can remain in cover and perform non-combat actions (so long as SOMEONE on your team is shooting, otherwise, close combat begins). Being in cover means avoiding potential damage, too, which is a bit relaxing after Dark Castle.

The inventory system is more robust, allowing for up to four items, depending on their size. Ammo is a thing, with different types having variable effectiveness depending on the enemy. Every character has a cybernetic enhancement as well, which is another tool in the toolbox. Oh, and Dark Sector has the best health tracker! Dark Castle just has a notepad, while the collector's box introduced a tracker styled as a chain that uses little black skulls, which is cool. But Dark Sector uses pre-printed EKG charts, so you can plot the peaks and valleys of your HP until you flatline. I love it.

Alex Crispin’s art fare pretty good here, too! I thought shifting gears to science fiction might mess things up, but that is definitely not the case. I might like the Dark Sector art a hair better, even. Oh, and the sold-separately soundtrack is a banger, featuring some nice synthwave influences.

[foster-the-world]

Exploring

I want to start exploring ADHD medications for baby boy. We were planning to wait until he was 6yo but I'm not sure that's realistic anymore. We made the cardiologist appointment for an EKG because we don't know his family history of heart issues. I want to research the options. Has anyone done the gene testing to try and understand what meds may work best? I'd prefer to skip the "test out a drug to find out it makes him behave worse" phase. Not sure how reliable the test is but have seen it recommend. Thanks to the shitty American healthcare system I can't call his development pediatrician to ask her to send over options before the appointment. If I knew what she was thinking I could make sure we are on the same page.

Was walking into the weed store when my daughters classmate and her mother came by. I was planning to get the 1906 chill pills. First time ever visiting such an establishment and of course I run into someone I know. Not a big deal. Its legal. Not sure they even noticed. I was happy to see her as I'm hoping her daughter will do the ice skating program with Rebel/Bee. Sent the info to a bunch of their friends today. The program said they would provide transport if we can get 8 kids at the school signed up.

I love how my kids live in the neighborhood with all of their friends. I love that they walk down the street and people regularly yell their name AND three times in the last week I've seen people on the street and walked out of my way so I didn't have to say hello. I'm not up for small talk all of the time. I'm sure they don't want to talk to me either. Sometimes you just want to go home.

Went to a school families apartment yesterday. The Dad is a Columbia Professor whose previous full time job was polling. He said in the last Presidential election in our precinct more people voted for Jill Stein then Donald Trump. Not surprised and happy to be in good company.

T-4 days to vacation. Found out the kids camp field trip to Coney Island is on Friday. We have to pick them up early to go the airport. Luckily we are flying out of the airport near Coney Island so I think we can just pick them up there.

Rebel has a very bizarre looking rash on her leg. One small spot, maybe one inch around. No itching/pain. Did a telemed appointment. The NP was like "Yeah, that doesn't look like anything I've ever seen." Told us to take her in sometime this week. Luckily, she already has an appt to get her finger prick tmrw morning. Not too worried about it but did wish it was more typically looking. Its always something.

Started baby boy on Steroids' Friday night. The cough is so much better. Thank God. Also good to know that may work in the future. Our doctor never mentioned it in the past. I need to get him into a Pulmonogist but as he has eight doctors appointments (6 Neuropsych + cardiologist + Dev Ped) in the next month I simply cannot add another one right now.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Final Part

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

yo yo yoooo I have nothing to say other than this was a painful chapter to write hahahaha :) But thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged this fic, it means the world to me, and I can't wait to write the next installment!

ALSO the title of this fic was based on this song

Warnings/other info: none I can think of!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Final

The hospital was so clean it almost made you uncomfortable. All you’ve known the past few years was the swamp and mold everywhere, so being somewhere this neat and tidy was… something you weren’t quite used to. You were used to you being this clean. When you first arrived, a couple lovely nurses took you away and scrubbed you raw, and then threw away your clothes. Not that it was much of a loss. They had been torn beyond repair, and were most likely covered in more contaminants than you could count. But, you were given a BSAA logo hoodie and some comfy sweatpants, so it was really a win in your book.

After they ran some EKG’s and a few other tests you couldn’t remember the name of, you were deemed healthy. Now, you were just waiting for the labs to come back with an explanation for your high regeneration. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared of what the results might be. You knew you weren’t infected anymore, but the idea of the virus still lingering inside you, it wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. Especially when you knew so little of what it actually was.

Your leg bounced impatiently on the edge of the hospital bed, fingers fidgeting and a sigh leaving you for the umpteenth time. The doctors wouldn’t let you leave your room for whatever reason, and you were getting increasingly impatient. You had received no word about Zoe or Ethan, your only knowledge being that they were stable, and that was it. A voice in your head was telling you to just say ‘fuck it’ and go looking for them, anyway. But, you felt like you were on thin enough ice as it was.

When the door opened, you shot up off the bed and held your breath, hoping to see one of the two people you desperately wanted to see. But when Chris’s large frame came through the door, you sighed and collapsed back onto the bed.

He chuckled. “What? Not happy to see me?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “It’s not that. I’ve been waiting in this room for hours and they still won't let me leave.”

“Well, when the labs come back, I’m sure they’ll let you see your sister.”

You perked up at the mention of her. “Is she alright?”

He sat in the chair next to the bed and pulled it up so he was closer to you. “Yeah. Vitals are stable, she was given the vaccine and the virus seems to have cleared out of her system.”

You sighed in relief. “Good. Hopefully we can put this all behind us soon.”

Silence blanketed the room for a moment as you tried to find the courage to bring up what you wanted to ask next, but you found yourself swallowing down the lump in your throat and just coming out with it.

“Um… How’s Ethan? And Mia?”

Chris tensed, and while it was a small gesture, you still noticed it.

“Mia’s good. Same as your sister, she’s been given the vaccine and the infection cleared out. As for Ethan, he’s… okay. He’s healthy and awake, responding correctly. But, there’s a few things the doctors and I are concerned about.”

You moved to the edge of the bed. “What is it? He’s gonna be okay, right?”

“For the most part, yes. But I can’t tell you the rest. It’s classified.”

Your eyes narrowed. “‘Classified?’ You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m serious. Only the doctors, Mia, and I know—”

“Oh, Mia gets to know. The woman who was working for a terrorist organization. That Mia? Yeah, makes perfect sense.”

“She’s his wife. It’s a matter of safety.”

“Safety?! So- So, what you're telling me is that you, her, and a whole bunch of other people get to know, but the man whose safety you’re concerned about doesn’t?!”

“You don’t understand. And it’s none of your concern, either.”

“Bullshit! Ethan and I fought like hell together to get out of that hellhole, I have a right to know what’s going on with him.”

“You’re lucky I even told you we had concerns in the first place! Do you know how much shit I could get for disclosing any amount of information to you?”

“Oh, right. Wouldn’t want me getting you in trouble or anything with fucking Umbrella. Christ.”

The door squeaked open, and a blonde nurse popped her head in.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but if the noise continues, I’m going to have to ask you to step out, sir. You’re causing stress for the patient.”

You waved her off just as Chris went to speak.

“It’s okay. It won’t happen again, sorry.”

She gave you a tight-lipped smile and closed the door, and you sighed once she left, body deflating.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight with you. All I’ve done is fight for the past however fucking long and I’m tired of fighting.”

Chris almost looked guilty, not quite hanging his head, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes for a moment.

“I know. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“S’not your fault. Fuckin’ red tape bullshit.”

He hummed in agreement, and the silence that followed made your mind spin in circles. What could possibly be wrong with Ethan? You knew it had something to do with the virus, but what exactly? Was it incurable? Was he too far along that any dose of the vaccine would kill him? You could feel your chest tighten with each anxiety ridden thought, and you were grateful when Chris suddenly cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I um, I have something for you.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a photo frame, the back of it facing you.

When you took it from him and flipped it over, your breath stuttered in your chest and your heart stirred. It was an older photo, your parents sitting on the couch while you and Lucas sat in between them and Zoe rested on your father’s lap. This was only a few months after they adopted you. Your mother insisted on getting an updated photo of the family, considering its newest addition. You had never experienced more love and compassion in your life than when you grew up with them, and the memory made your chest warm.

You finally realized you were crying when a tear hit the glass, and you quickly sniffled and wiped at your eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I…” Looking up at Chris, you smiled. “Thank you for this.”

"It's the least I could do."

He stood from his seat, making for his departure from your room, when you stood up as well and grabbed his arm.

"Hey." He turned towards you. "Thank you for what you did for me, letting me go after Lucas. I won't forget it."

Chris scoffed, the sound bordering on a chuckle. "Not like you gave me much of a choice."

You huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I didn't."

Before he could leave, one of the Doctors stepped into the room, adjusting the glasses atop his bumped nose.

"Up on your feet, I see. You feeling better?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I've been up on my feet and ready to get out of this place hours ago. You guys sure took your time."

"Lots of tests to run. I'm sure you can understand."

With a shrug of your shoulders, you sat down on the bed again. "So? What's the diagnosis?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, flipping through your chart. "Your vitals are functioning normally, but we did find something interesting, of course."

"Regarding my, like, ridiculously fast healing?"

“Yes. Let's put it this way." He set the chart on the bed. “Your infection was more advanced than we originally thought. When you died, it sent the virus into overdrive and started your heart back up, as well as healed any previous injuries you had. You were about to reach the final stages of infection when you got the vaccine, which is why it didn’t kill you, but it didn’t get rid of all of the mold infected cells in your body. “

“So… I’m not gonna end up like my parents, right?”

“No. The vaccine and the antibodies are preventing that. And while you still have residual traces of the E-Series inside of you, you won’t have to worry about being controlled like your family either.”

You slowly let the information sink in, and you found that even with a medical explanation for all this nonsense, it still didn’t make sense.

“What about Zoe? She was as exposed to the mold as I was.”

“It’s completely out of her system. We believe that your death caused an excess of mold infected cells to form to revive you. You were lucky to get the vaccine when you did, or else you would’ve been completely infected.”

You forgot Chris was in the room until he suddenly spoke up.

“So they’re okay? No risk of suddenly growing an extra limb or something, right?”

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. “Not likely, no. Just make sure to get your annual vaccination and you should be fine. But, please remember that you’re not invincible. A shot to the head will still kill you, super soldier.”

You gave a mock salute with your two fingers. “You got it, Doc.”

He was halfway out the door when he turned his head back towards you. “Oh, and you’re free to visit your sister and friend if you would like.”

Your eyes lit up, practically jumping off the bed. When you looked back at Chris to make sure it was okay, he just gave you a nod with a small smile. With a wide grin, you practically burst out of the room and almost knocked down a nurse or two whilst you were rushing to your sister’s room. It took less than a minute to find her room, and while you had been waiting hours to see her, you couldn’t help but stand there, clenching your fists anxiously as you swayed back and forth on your feet. But it only lasted for a moment, and soon you were opening the door and locking eyes with Zoe.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

You smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

She laughed and stood from the bed, and you met her open arms with a tight hug. Your eyes squeezed shut, holding her like you haven’t seen her in years. It certainly felt that way. Just hours ago, you thought she was going to die from Evie’s weird, mind power bullshit, and now she was here, standing and talking and smiling. She was okay.

 When your eyes started to sting, you pulled away before you could start crying like a baby in front of your little sister. When you got a good look at her, your eyes widened.

“Oh wow, your hair!”

She looked away with a shy grin.

“Yeah, a little parting gift from Evie,” she said, running her hand through her short, white hair.

You stepped back and crossed your arms over your chest, lips pursing as you examined her.

“I don’t know. I think it suits you.”

She scoffed. “Oh. shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

Your laughter bounced off of each other’s, and fuck, it felt so good to feel this again. To just be vulnerable and laugh and not have to worry about how you’re going to survive the next day. If only your parents were there to experience this with you.

You gestured to the bed, and you both sat down.

“So,” you began,“where do we go after this?”

She sighed, as if the weight of the question physically affected her. “I don’t even know how to begin to think about that. Been so focussed on survivin’ all this shit, I…” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “As long as we stick together, I don’t care where we go. Hell, we can move to fuckin’ California if you wanted to.”

You grimaced. “Eugh. I’ll pass, thanks.”

She pinched your arm and you punched her leg, falling into a fit of giggles when the door opened. You groaned, irritated that your time with your sister was being interrupted, and turned to whatever sorry soul that walked in.

“Can’t you hear we’re busy—”

The words died in your throat when your eyes locked on a pair of brown ones staring right back at you, and the air in your lungs vanished with a shuddered breath.

“Ethan.”

He let out a heavy breath, shifting on his feet as he took you in.

“Hey.”

Standing from the bed, you approached Ethan with slow, calm steps, despite everything in your body screaming at you to barrel into his arms and cling to him like he was a buoy in a vast ocean. You barely recognized him without the dirt and grime on his face. He looked good, slight stubble on his face and a scar on his nose.

You always dug guys with scars.

Raising your fist, you connected it with Ethan’s shoulder.

“‘Hey?’ I’ve been worried sick about you and all you have to say to me is ‘Hey’?”

Ethan chuckled and rubbed his shoulder. “You want me to ask you how your day’s going?”

You muttered for him to shut up before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you, wrapping him in a tight hug that he immediately reciprocated. He squeezed you against his front, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, and you closed your eyes as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you. As far as you were concerned, you never wanted to forget what this felt like. How his arms perfectly fit around you, how his front felt pressed up against yours.

Too bad it couldn’t last longer.

Zoe cleared her throat behind you. “I hope I’m not interrupting your quality time in my room.”

You chuckled and pulled away from him, but the warm hand Ethan kept on your back sent tingles shooting down your spine.

“Zoe. You’re looking well,” he said.

Your sister shrugged. “All thanks to you both.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t do anything. You had to endure our brother’s annoying ramblings when he kidnapped you and Mia.”

She let out a dry laugh, idly playing with a frayed corner of the blanket and suddenly avoiding your gaze.

“Lucas… is he…?”

“Dead. For good this time. I’ll save you all the gory details.”

You could almost feel the relief coming off of Ethan when you confirmed your brother’s death, his lungs releasing a deep sigh. Zoe almost looked disappointed, and if you were honest, you empathize with her. Lucas was barely pleasant even before Eveline came alone, but he was still your brother. Still your family. Even if he was a fucking psychopath.

Ethan cleared his throat, catching yours and Zoe’s attention.

“Uh, do you mind if I steal you for a second?”

You looked to Zoe, and she nodded, giving you the okay. When you relayed the same gesture to Ethan, he gave your sister a quick smile and led you out of her room, softly closing the door behind him. The quiet of the hallway suddenly felt overwhelming, because now you were left with every little thought and feeling you had about Ethan and his stupid, handsome face and every damn emotion felt like it was ready to come spilling out of you at any second.

Ethan Winters, you bastard.

You leaned against the wall opposite your sister’s room, sunlight spilling in through the window behind you. As soon as you looked at the man in front of you, your heart jumped into your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Fuck this. You hate this. 

“So—”

You held up your hand. “Don’t—! I… Just give me a second because if you start talking, everything you say is gonna go through one ear and right out the other because the only thing on my mind right now is certainly not appropriate for our current setting.”

His eyes widened, surprised by your boldness, but then the asshole smirked and you immediately wanted to slap it off of his face.

“Uh-huh… Interesting.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the white walls of the facility, and you hated how much you liked it.

“Ethan, I swear to christ—”

You watched as he closed the distance in just a few strides, fingers tracing over your jaw before cupping your face and fitting his lips against yours. You sighed through your nose and brought your hands to his chest, sliding them up until they rested at the base of his neck. It wasn’t a deep or intense kiss, but it was more than enough to have you weak in the knees and craving something more.

He pulled away much too soon for your liking and placed his hand on top of one of your own, giving it a squeeze. His gentle smile sent your heart aflutter, and you almost felt embarrassed of how smitten you probably looked. Like some dumb, lovesick teenager.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know. Going after your brother like that. I knew you would be okay, because somehow you always are, but…”

You gently pushed against his chest to create some distance between you and gestured to yourself. “Hey, look at me. I’m right as rain.”

If the rain had some weird mutation.

Ethan’s lips formed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could still see some leftover doubt in his expression.

“Hey.” You took his hand again. “You just snogged me in the hallway of a hospital. I’m more okay than I’ve ever been.”

He laughed and pulled you forward, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll make sure to kiss you in hospitals more often if that’s what you’re into.”

Eyes widening, you quickly pulled away and searched his face. You knew it was just a silly joke, but the way he said it made it sound like there was a future between you two. Like he would be around to kiss you and hold you whenever you wanted. But you knew that couldn’t happen. Because you barely had the rest of your life figured out and he had a fucking wife. A wife he went through absolute hell to find, and one you garnered zero sympathy for. Would he really waste all that effort he went through to be with you?

No. That’s next level delusional, and you were nothing if not a realist.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t spoken for a moment, and cleared your throat as you shook your head. “Nothing. Um… how’s Mia?” Her name tasted bitter on your tongue, but you swallowed down your disdain and tried not to show it on your face.

“Oh, uh, she’s good. Doctors checked her out and she’s ready to go home.”

The smile on your face was forced, and it made your cheeks hurt. “That’s good! I’m glad she’s okay.”

Nothing was said between you for a moment, and you crossed your arms uncomfortably over your chest, suddenly felt dirty thinking about the kiss you shared with Ethan only moments ago. No, you didn’t like Mia. But even still, a part of you felt awful for even thinking about him like that, let alone acting on those feelings.

No shit. It’s her husband, for fuck’s sake.

You sighed. “Ethan, I—”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Your head turned in the direction of the voice, smiling when you saw your Uncle Joe coming down the hallway towards you. All stressful thoughts were momentarily abandoned as you met him in the middle and leaned into his open arms, his tight hug practically crushing your ribs whilst he lifted you onto your tippy toes.

“Jesus, kid, how long’s it been?”

It gradually became harder to breathe in his embrace, and you took in a deep breath when he finally let you go. Joe’s always been tough, but somewhere in the years you haven’t seen him, you must’ve forgotten just how tough.

“Too long. I’m really glad you’re here.” Turning black to Ethan, you grabbed his hand and brought him forward to stand next to you. “This is Ethan. He helped us.”

He held out his hand, and Joe clapped his own palm against his before giving it a firm shake. You watched Ethan’s face as he winced, and couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle.

“Thank you, son. I really appreciate what you did for my family.”

Ethan gestured his head towards you. “If anything, they helped me. I would’ve been screwed if I hadn’t run into them.”

“Yeah. Tough sonuvabitch, ain’t they?” Joe chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes, but chose to accept the compliment anyway. After everything, you deserved a little praise. But then your mind returned to the previous conversation you were having with Ethan, and your lips turned downwards. 

“Hey, Unc, um… Could you give Ethan and I just a minute?”

Joe looked between you for a moment, lips disappearing under his beard as he gave you a small grin.

“Sure thing, kid. I’ll go visit with your sister.”

You said your thanks as he walked away and then sighed. Ethan’s expression was one of concern when he turned back to you, and you wished he wouldn’t look at you like that. You didn’t want to have this conversation, but this might be the last time you see him. The thought made your heart crumble.

But, the truth was… well, it was certainly a bitter pill to swallow. Something between you two couldn’t happen. As much as you wanted it to. He had obligations, a wife, a life far away from you that never had you in it to begin with. It was by dumb, stupid fucking chance that Ethan ended up in your life at all, and maybe under different circumstances, things could’ve worked out. But not now. Not like this.

“Everything okay?”

Ethan’s voice brought you back to earth, and you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“As okay as I can be.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, and when he took a step towards you, you took one back.

Fuck, this hurts.

“Hey—”

“Ethan, I—” you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ve never met anyone in my life like you, you know. I probably never will. So… When you go back to whatever life you had before you were roped into this fucked up mess, I want you to remember me. ‘Cus I will certainly remember you.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… fuck.”

When he moved towards you again, you didn’t try to escape him, keeping your arms tightly wrapped around yourself. He muttered your name, and the sound of it softly tumbling from his lips was almost your breaking point. You swallow thickly, struggling to meet his eyes.

“I have lost so many people that I cared about. And I’ve learned to deal with it and move on because that’s what I have to do. But then… then you just fucking crash into my life and make me care about you. And I have to go through the same shit all over again.”

It hurt, pouring yourself out at his feet like this. But you had to get it out, because if you didn’t, it was just going to build and build and build until you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But, you wondered if suppressing it would’ve hurt less than just spewing out all your feelings.

He shook his head. “What? You’re not losing me.”

“What do you think this is, Ethan? That you’re gonna leave your wife, never go back to California, and run away with me while I try to figure my life out? That you’re gonna be patient with me through the nightmares and the pain?”

“We haven’t even talked about this! You’re acting like everything is gonna go a certain way when you don’t know that.”

“It can’t be any other way!”

Your voice echoed down the hallway, and you cleared your throat to try and regain some sense of control over your emotions.

“You have obligations, and I’m not gonna be the one holding you back from them.”

Turning to walk away felt more painful than when your brother smashed your head open, and you clenched your jaw tightly as you willed yourself not to cry. But, the telltale burning of your eyes proved you to be unsuccessful.

“What if it was my choice?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning your head.

“What?”

He started walking. “What if it’s my choice? To leave. To be with you. What if that’s what I want?”

Every word that came out of his mouth was like shrapnel to your heart. You wanted that life. You wanted it so fucking bad it hurt.

So why couldn’t you have it?

Because this was reality. A fucked up, shitty reality. And you couldn’t have everything you wanted.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He gripped your arm, turning you to face him. “I’m serious. I’m serious about you, about how I feel. I know you feel the same.”

God you did. More than he knew. You think you liked him too much if you were being honest. Which is why it hurt all the more when you swallowed down every confession you wanted to throw at him, and said something completely different instead.

“Go to Mia. She needs you.”

“Do you still love your wife?”

That seemed to stop him in his tracks, because he was suddenly speechless as he opened his mouth and tried to search for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t hurt you. His silence did enough of a job of it, though.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart beneath it.

The words were painful to say, and you wished you could take them back. Because god, the look on Ethan’s face when you said them might’ve been one of the most painful things you’ve ever seen. 

When you went to pull your hand away, Ethan captured it faster than you could blink and yanked you into his chest, crashing his mouth down onto yours. You inhaled sharply, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his lips. His thumbs on your cheeks caught your rogue tears. It felt like he was breathing you in, committing you to memory with each bruising kiss that sent your brain spiraling and your heart into overdrive. 

You clutched his shirt tightly in your hands, and when he finally pulled away with a gasp, you didn’t want to let go. Because this was it. This was probably going to be the last time you’d ever see him again, and the fact was absolutely crushing. Like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and smashed on the ground.

“Hey.” You gazed up at him, watching as he searched his pockets before grabbing a pen that he probably nabbed from a doctor.

“Turning to a life of crime already?” you joked.

He smiled, and damn if it didn’t make your heart stutter. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, clicking the pen before dragging the ball point across the back of your hand. His number.

“Ethan—”

“You said to remember you. I don’t want my only memories of you to be of us fighting for our lives. We’ll keep in touch, I promise.”

With a sad smile, you nodded, despite the doubt you felt in the pit of your stomach. It was better than nothing, and it was all you could ask for. With one last hug, you willed your feet to begin moving in the opposite direction, and it took everything in you not to turn around and give him one last glance. Because if you did, you’d run right back into his arms again, and you couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t do that to you.

Shit. You didn’t think it would hurt this much. Thank god you were turned away from him, because you couldn’t stop the tears from rushing down your face. Your footsteps sped up into a light jog until you made it back to your room, shutting the door behind you as calmly as you could before the facade broke. Your back pressed against the door, and you choked on a sob whilst you slid down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest.

For the longest time, you thought growing close to anyone would be impossible. After the constant abuse you suffered in foster homes, and the loss of your friends in the field, you closed yourself off, only letting your family see a little behind the stone walls you took so long to build. And you were comfortable that way. Despite it being a lonely life, you never gave anyone the opportunity to hurt you ever again.

And then Ethan Winters came and smashed your walls down with a fucking wrecking ball.

You couldn’t describe it, but there was something about him that was just so inviting. Captivating. Maybe it was his kind eyes, or the way he spoke to you with assuredness and respect. Maybe it was something entirely different.

You wouldn’t call it love. You’ve known him for all of two days. But… it was certainly longing. A deep ache to fill the lonely void you’ve lived with for so long. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Maybe you’re just so desperate for companionship that you latched onto Ethan like a last resort.

But if that was the case, then why did it hurt so fucking much?

You gasped when there was suddenly a knock on the door, scrambling to your feet and furiously wiping at your eyes. It didn’t matter, the red rings around your eyes were a dead giveaway.

“Just a second.”

You cursed yourself in your head for how your voice trembled, clenching your fists so hard you formed small crescent shapes in your palms.

“Everything okay?”

Chris. It was just Chris.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hesitantly put your hand on the doorknob and slowly opened the door. He smiled when he saw you, but it immediately dropped when he got a good look at your face.

Like you said, a dead giveaway.

“What’s wrong? Something happen with your sister?”

You shook your head, opening the door wider so he could enter the room. “No, nothing like that. Just some other stuff. I… don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Chris nodded, respecting your boundaries, which you were more than grateful for.

“Alright. I wanted to discuss some things with you, if that’s okay.” He gestured to the bed, and you sat down, him taking his place next to you. “I finished up my report on the mission and the BSAA just got back to me. They were impressed with your performance.”

You smiled, trying to mask the aching of your heart as you pointed both thumbs towards yourself.

“Super soldier, remember?”

He chuckled, and the sound comforted you in a small way.

“What would you think about joining up?”

Your brows shot up. “I’m sorry, you wanna recruit me?”

“You’re good on the field, can handle yourself in a fight. You’re a decent sniper too, right? You were a bit reckless on the mission, but your fast healing made up for it. If you were to join, though, you’d have to make sure not to pull stunts like that again.”

“You say that like I’m considering it.”

“Are you?”

You paused, looking down at your feet that dangled a few inches from the floor. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about joining the fight again. It was all you knew, and you were damn good at it. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Of course, what other options were there? Live a boring, normal life, working a nine to five? It sounded like hell. But, you had to think about Zoe first. Because wherever she went, you went, too. Ultimately, you were leaving the decision up to her.

“Let me talk to Zoe first?”

“You should do it.”

You practically jumped off the bed at the sound of her voice, snapping your head in her direction to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

“When the hell did you get here?”

She shrugged. “Few minutes ago. I heard enough of your conversation, though.”

She came forward, sitting on the other side of you and effectively sandwiching you between her and Chris.

“You should join. I know it’s what you want. And I can take care of myself while you’re off killin’ god knows what.”

You faced your body towards her. “You’re not worried?”

She scoffed. “Please. You took shrapnel to your leg, fought like hell the past three years to get us out, and you’re still here. Alive. If anything, I’m worried about the sorry bastards that are unlucky enough to come toe to toe with you.”

You smiled at your sister’s praise, glad she believed in you more than you believe in yourself.

“It won’t just be people I’ll be fightin’, Zo. The BSAA deals with bioweapons. As in the shit we were facing those said three years.”

She shrugged. “So? Means you got experience, then. Like I said, unlucky, sorry bastards.”

Shaking your head, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into your side. “Alright, shithead.” You pinched her arm, and she pulled away to smack your leg.

With a chuckle, you turned back to Chris, and noticed him watching you with expecting eyes. You sighed, and like that, your decision was made.

“Where do I sign?”

The pack on your shoulder weighed heavy, causing you to slump on one side as you lightly kicked the suitcase at your feet. You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the airport on time, and after a warm shower and the excessively long cab drive, you were still an hour early.

3 weeks later

Where the fuck is he?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you quickly fished it out to see a text from your sister.

You quickly typed up a response, fingers flying over the keyboard.

-6:15 Zoe:

Get there safe?

You smiled at that, glad she was feeling at home. You both had bought a small, two bedroom apartment somewhere just outside of New Orleans, and it was nice enough. Of course, when you brought up the idea of leaving Louisiana, Zoe shut that idea down with a firm “Hell no,” which was exactly what you were expecting. After all that’s happened, this place was still home to you, and you weren’t planning on leaving.

-6:15 You:

Yeah. Way too early for this shit.

-6:16 Zoe:

You’ll live. Apartment is looking nice.

After the shitshow ended, the BSAA and other government officials grilled you and your sister for information, and you told them everything you could remember. No, you weren’t happy with so many persons of authority sticking their noses up your ass, but you didn’t have any other choice. Afterwards, they made you sign some documents swearing on your life and liberty that you wouldn’t reveal any information about Eveline or anything else that happened to you, and you did so with mild irritation.

-6:17 You:

I expect it to be fully furnished and painted when I get back.

-6:18 Zoe:

You gonna send me the money?

-6:18 You:

Government pays well for you to keep your mouth shut.

At least you were safe. That’s all that mattered now.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Chris.

You rolled your eyes.

-6:20 Sir Punch-a-lot:

ETA 5 minutes.

With a laugh, you pocketed your phone and idly rocked on your heels as you waited for Chris to shop up. Seconds had barely passed before you grew fidgety and pulled out your phone again, mindlessly scrolling through apps. It had been years since you had a phone, and you barely knew how to function. You found yourself using it a lot these days. It was a good distraction from all the racing thoughts in your head.

-6:20 You:

You’re texting me, not the president. Stop being so formal.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

It’s convenient. Less words to type.

-6:21 You:

Maybe you should try using a gif next time. Even faster.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

Gif?

-6:22 You:

Oh dear god.

You didn’t know why, but your thumb mindlessly pressed on the contacts icon, and you read the three names you had in there.

Zoe

Chris

…

Ethan.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you pressed on his name and the options to call or text came up. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and despite him saying that you’d keep in touch, you haven't tried to call him once since then. There’d been many times when you considered it, holding your phone close to your face late at night, the UV light burning your eyes as you read his name and number over and over again. But, you always talked yourself out of it.

What if he moved on? What if he didn’t really want to hear from you, and he said all those things just to be nice? What if… What if Mia was making him happier than you could’ve ever hoped to make him?

You breathed out a sigh, clutching your phone tightly in your hand. You were about to travel to the headquarters of the American branch of the BSAA so you could be briefed, and you had no idea when you’d have another free moment to call him. Now was a better time than ever.

Anxiety crawled down your throat as you pressed the call button next to Ethan’s number, and with a shaky hand, you held the phone to your ear.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring—

"We're sorry The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Goodbye.”

[lazulisong]

my homies in the lord in the space of three days i've had one friend go to the ER with a UTI, another one end up with kidney stones, and my stepdad still has an inflamed bowel, a blood clot in his liver, AND c diff.

i had to call my PCP and beg them to do labs and also spent half an hour plus on hold fruitlessly for an ekg in the hospital system -- which i also miraculously was able to get done at PRISM today. i almost cried.

i am. so tired.

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Darkness - Jake Seresin Imagine

A/N: so this is something that has been rotting my brain so bad and I had to write it.

Warnings: cursing, near death, I think that’s it!

This is it. I’m done for.

The words echoed through the blonde aviators head as he watched the ground coming hurtling at his jet faster and faster. He heard the blaring of the alarms as his systems reiterated the failure that had him in the current position. His eyes were squeezed closed as he heard Maverick, Coyote, and Rooster in his headset. They were trying to yell out quick fixes, but they all knew the same thing Hangman did. There was nothing any of them could do. His eject button wasn’t working and the nose of his jet was headed straight for the ground.

He hesitantly opened his eyes as he said a quick prayer, his fingers trying the eject button again desperately. “God damn it!” The words left his lips as he tried to figure out what to do. That was the last thing he remembered before everything went black; pain shooting through his body though he couldn’t place where it was coming from. It was everywhere and nowhere at once. He opened his mouth to scream but felt nothing coming out, silence just flowing into the black nothingness that surrounded him. Tendrils of darkness grabbed at every single one of his extremities, pulling him deeper and deeper into their abyss.

“It’s just a routine training maneuver. You all got this.” Mavericks words had filled the hanger as the aviators all sat at their tables, a smirk evident on Hangman’s lips. However, that statement would soon prove to be wrong. As soon as Hangman got into the air, he felt as though something was off but he couldn’t place it. The aircraft had been perfect on inspection before they went into the air so he hadn’t initially been worried. But, as the training went on, he started to voice his concerns. He wasn’t one to usually accept defeat like this, but a malfunction was something that could very likely get him killed.

Maverick heard him loud and clear; telling him to sit the jet down. He tried to oblige; which is when things really started to go bad. It was when the malfunction decided to make itself known, showing that it was something hangman couldn’t fix. It was a multi-system failure and everything he did just seemed to make things worse. His cockiness was gone. His confidence, out the window. Jake Seresin was scared and he was scared for his life.

———————————————————————————

The steady beeps of the EKG attached to Jake’s body rang out a rhythmic song as you walked into his room in the hospital bay. His chart was open on your clipboard, a pen in your hand as you started to take his vitals. After his accident, he had been brought in and he had been put on observation orders. He had yet to wake up in the almost week he had been there; his squad members coming on a daily basis to see how he’s doing.

“Mr Seresin, you are very loved.” The words left your mouth in a quiet mumble as you wrote on his chart, just standing there for a second. You wished he could know that his squad came in daily. You wished he could know that they would just sit there with him, telling him about the things he’s missing while he’s at work. You really even wished you could tell him about the tears that were shed, sincere words coming out of apparently once bitter enemies. “We need you to wake up. There’s people who care for you.” Your words were quiet and sincere as you opened the windows in his room like you did every day; letting some of the sunshine in.

You tutted your tongue as you cast one last gaze at him, giving him a sad smile before you turned to walk out the door. Once you reached the threshold you heard a cough behind you, your head turning as you noticed Jake Seresin starting to stir. He was awake. You walked over to the nurses station, immediately paging Jake’s doctor to come and see him since he was now up. After you did that, you walked back into his room. He was slowly drinking the water that was on his bedside table, looking around the pale white room.

“Hi, Mr Seresin. My name is (Y/N). I’ve been your nurse for the last week. I know you probably have a lot of questions and I’m going to do my best to answer them for you.” You fast him a small smile as you walked to the foot of the hospital bed he was in, your hands flipping through his chart as you tried to even think of where to begin. “So, you were in a pretty severe accident. You have several broken bones and a pretty severe concussion. The doctor is going to come in to evaluate you soon and let you know more, but I’m here if you need absolutely anything at all.” You said the last part as you saw one of the men who had been here on a daily basis come to the door, a bright grin on his face. “You son of a bitch. I thought you died on me.” The one you recognized as coyote looked at you for permission to come in, your nod a response to him. “Take it slow. He just woke up.”

Coyote gave you a reassuring smile as you walked out to the nurses station, watching a slow stream of people start to come and go through Jake’s room. He had a long road to recovery, but he seemed to be surrounded by a good amount of support. It warmed your heart seeing the times that your patients had family and friends, it made up for the heartache of the ones who came in by themselves and suffered through alone. Those were always the hard ones.

As a rule, you always tried to avoid getting attached to patients. It was a hard and fast rule you had tried to adopt in nursing school to avoid any heartbreak if cases went wrong. Of course, it was easier said than done in most cases. For instance, when you had patients that you had to take care of for extended periods of time, or when you had children as patients.

Jake seresin was proving to be one of those long timers who had a way of weaseling his way into your heart. With how serious his condition was, the doctor had wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few days longer once he was awake. He didn’t like it and he complained about it quite a bit. But, once the boy laid eyes on you, he was all smiles. You turned his mood completely around. That, or it was the morphine you were able to give him. You were more compelled that it was the second thing, but the thought of the first made you get butterflies in your stomach.

He was handsome, that was for sure. His smile was bright and pretty enough to knock the air out of your lungs every-time you saw it. His eyes were also a beautiful shade and you couldn’t help but blush every time you felt them watching you as you work. “I get you flustered very easily and I never even do anything.” You heard Jake’s amused voice as you looked up at him, giving a shy smile as you checked his IV port before pushing the meds into it slowly. “Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t.” Your words were subtle as you stood back up, putting the cover on your needle.

Jake just chuckled at that, laying his head back against his pillow as his eyes watched you. His medicine was kicking in as he chewed on his bottom lip, thinking about asking you a question before he decided against it. You just smiled and looked down at the paperwork again, a small tinge of sadness making its way into your chest. “Well, I see you get to get out of here tomorrow. I bet you’re excited.” You tried to sound happy, your wall going up finally to protect you. “Yeah, but I’m gonna miss your pretty face.” Jake gave you a sincere smile and a wink before he closed his eyes and the meds took over, allowing him some sleep. “I’m gonna miss yours too. Don’t worry.” You whispered the words as you walked back out to the desk, clocking out for the night.

——————————————————————————

The next night passed too quickly, your alarm breaking you out of your slumber as you got up and rushed to get ready. You wanted to catch Jake before he got discharged, hoping that you could say goodbye and wish him well. You slipped on the scrubs that he always complimented you in, quickly doing your makeup before getting in your car and driving to work.

You walked in quickly, immediately going to his room and seeing the bed empty. You let out a sad sigh as you leaned against the doorframe, trying to contain your disappointment. This is exactly why you didn’t let anyone in like that. It always lead to heartbreak. “Man, I bet you’re glad he’s gone, huh?” You heard a voice behind you, a smile taking over your lips as you turned around to be met with the mischievous eyes of your former patient. “So, since I’m not your patient anymore. Can I officially ask you on a date? You’ve put up with my ass for almost 2 weeks. I think it’s time I repay you for it.” You felt the butterflies erupt in your stomach as you agreed, telling Jake that of course you would go on a date with him.