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bleedingichorhearts · 24 days

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𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲: 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐮𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Even underwater vamps need their snakies. A lil short.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Nom Nom.

Cave diving was always a claustrophobic thing to do. Even by yourself, alone to the natures of the water. It always brought a twinge of fear into even the Masters of Diving. No one knows if the cave would suddenly cave in. No one knows if they’ll get stuck in a tight situation. No one knows if a fish or a predator would come out a give you a little spook or leaving with a limb in their maws.

Nature itself could be unpredictable, unforgivable.

It’s why safety procedures were made and for cave diving it was 5 main things: Always use a continuous guideline, save 2/3 of your oxygen in your tank to be able to return to the surface, carry at least 3 waterproof lights, limit your dive depth from the gas to breathe, and be well trained and mentally prepared for your dive underneath dark caves and spooky glints of light.

Oh, but it was quite hard to remember these procedures when you lose your continuous guideline; having it possibly cut from a sharp edge of a rock or something, someone else. When your oxygen is lower the amount that you would use to go back up to the surface. Then 1 out of 3 of your lights decides to be the only one wanting to work now, barely lightening anything up in this, what felt like The Abyss.

I swear I could feel my own heart beat pulsing through the waters as I tried to retrace my swimming process in the pitch dark of the cave. My light only providing enough light and energy to see what was in front of me. My hands desperately patting up to the rock above me like it would dislodge, and I really hoped it would. My oxygen was way too low for my liking.

I know I shouldn’t be panicking. It just causes me to use up more of my oxygen, but be to stuck in a cave without on inch of natural light producing anywhere it was scary. It immediately brings your hopes down like; am I going to live this? Will I ever see my friends and family again? To see the other parts of the ocean I have yet to explore?

I groan into my scuba mask, bubbles producing from it as my chest constricts on itself. Was I already beginning to lose the rest of my oxygen? Did I already use up all my oxygen panicking?

Lifting up my arm to check my oxygen. I flashed my light over it to look at how much oxygen I had left. A glint of white passing through my mask as I narrow my eyes at the meter.

Not even 10% is left in the tank.

Oh, I am going to die alone, scared, and cold. Trapped underwater and stuck in a dark corner of a cave to scare future people with my skeleton that dare to come down and into this cave. Going to have my watery-like flesh being picked off by passing fish and living plants that walk under water.

Bubbles rise from my mask again as I suddenly scream out at this shimmer of white in the dark. My hand fumbling for the harpoon at my side as my eyes desperately search the area around me for the source of white. A low rumbling being felt through the water.

Holy mother of— Whatever this thing was, it was big. I don’t think I have felt a noise like that before for my entirety of swimming in the ocean. Just what could make that noise?

Bubbles rose out of my mask again, but this time I couldn’t inhale any more oxygen and that scared me more than that quick flash of white and red. A vibrating sound coming out of the creature, shaking my body as I desperately tried to flee and breathe at the same time. My back hitting up against the cave wall. Numbing some of my nerves.

I wheeze when my neck is captured in this grip of this… blurry white creature. It’s frightening strength, pinning my head back to the cave by the neck. My sluggish hand with the harpoon trying to shoot at the thing, but ultimately failed when it seemed like the creature snarled disapprovingly at me. Snatching my wrist painfully and pulling it out before a sharp and heavy stings pierced through my scuba gear. My body going still as my breath no longer was able to vocalize my screams towards the creature while I fall limp in its grasp.

The creature thrums out its gratitude. Licking its lips when it was done feasting before coming back and pressing its tongue against the wound it made, not leaving a single fade of blood unattended to the waters of its territory. Its eyes watching as the wound slowly became like little slits.

Rest, Vita mea.(My life.) For I have given you another chance with me.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: 𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐬

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

#Ichor’s chronicles #warhammer 40k #mermay #mermay 2024 #oc: amadeus #blood angel #sea monster #tw: biting #don’t ever go swimming alone you hear me little anons?#that is very VERY dangerous #his headcanons might be better ngl

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i-eat-worlds · 1 month

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A&F Platontic Omegaverse AU

This idea manifested after a rather late night for me, and refused to leave until I wrote it. I’d be open to writing more, so if you enjoyed it, please do share.

Content: A/B/O dynamics, non-graphic medical neglect, recent past violence, medical whump, made up omegaverse medical BS that I took way to seriously, minor injuries, medic caretaker(s), and graphic depictions of anaphylaxis and allergic reactions

Eric turned out of the Wendy’s parking lot, grabbing several fries and shoveling them into his mouth. Next to him, Joseph was slurping on a chocolate frosty. He flicked on the turn signal, pulling into the left lane, when a call came in.

“It’s for us. 5067 Prince Street, apartment 134. Female omega in unpartnered heat. Neighbor called it in, said she smells sick and scared,” Joseph read from the screen.

Eric turned in the direction of the call, flipping on the lights and sirens. The sea of other vehicles parted as he accelerated down the street, speeding towards the newer apartment blocks that rose several blocks over.

“Can you get a blocker ready for me?” He asked, taking another left onto Prince Street. Joseph hummed, peeling the back o of his and pressing it onto the back of his neck over his scent glands. “Sure.”

The Prince street apartments were a newer development, meant to house the ever growing population of college students who needed a place to live. Since it was early afternoon, there was plenty of space. They grabbed the stretcher, bags piled on top of it, and headed towards the building.

It was easy to tell that the apartment number they’d been given was the right one. They could smell it from several meters away in the hallway, thick and pungent, rancid enough to make you gag if you weren’t used to it.

Hand in a fist, Joseph knocked on the door. “OEMS! We got a call for an omega in heat?”

There was a beat of silence, and the scent grew more potent. Joseph’s stomach twisted. Still no response. Behind him, Eric held up the key that had been hidden under the mat. He waited for another beat. “We’re going to come in.”

The smell was nearly overpowering as they cracked the door open. Between the apartment’s size and its sparse furnishing, it did not take long for them to locate their patient.

She was in the bathroom, half dressed and curled up on the threadbare bath mat. One eye was puy and swollen, well on its way to becoming a black eye, while the other was brimming with tears. Her mouth was hanging open, hands shaking. When she saw both of them enter the room, she inched back, a scared yelp falling out of her lips.

Joseph knelt down in front of her. “I’m Joseph, and that’s my partner Eric. What’s your name?”

“Alex.” She cringed over in pain as a cramp rolled through her.

“How are you feeling right now, Alex?” Her breaths were fast and shallow.

“Cramps are really bad, feel hot, and I’m really tired. It’s like a heat but worse.” The tears had started to dry, but she was still obviously shaken.

“I…I have a care worker but he…he…he left,” she sobbed.” He left me. He was here to give me my dose of suppressants and I was in heat so he couldn’t because I guess they stopped working for some reason…” She trailed off, trying to hold off tears.

“You’re okay, breathe for me,” he comforted. Her pulse was rabbit quick, and her skin was sweaty and warm. Behind him, Eric cracked open an oxygen tank.

“He said he didn’t want to deal with it-” She prodded at her bruised eye. “I threatened to report it and he hit me. I don’t know what to do.” Another cramp cut her off.

“We’re going to take care of you, alright?” He smiled at her, concealing the flash of anger that flared inside of them. “Do you know which suppressants you take?”

Eric looped that mask around her head. “Metip…Mecip…I don’t know how to pronounce it?”

“Mecipromide?” That was one of the more potent suppressants, and older too. It had mostly been replaced by now.

She nodded. “I don’t know how much. He alway did it.”

“Alright. Breakthrough heats aren’t rare with that. Do you take any other medications?”

She shook her head, whimpering in pain again.

“I’m going to feel your glands now, tell me if it hurts.” He reached back around to her neck, fingers pressing into the warm and swollen glands.

“Ow.” She flinched away again.

“Now for your armpits, sorry if it tickles.” They were enlarged as well.

“Czerniaks and axillaries are inflamed,” he reported to Eric before turning his attention back to Alex. “When was your last heat?”

“Three, maybe four years ago? I was eighteen or nineteen.” Her voice was shaky, fear still rolling off her.

“Aright.” That was a pretty long time to be on Mecipromide for. “Is it just your eye that’s hurt, or did you get hit in other places?”

“Just my eye.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He put up two fingers.

“Two.”

“Good.” He shifted back. “Is your vision blurry? Any dark spots?” She shook her head. “Do you remember getting hit?”

A quiet “yeah.”

“Good. Any dizziness, nausea, or head ache?” Her breathing had slowed, and she seemed to be calming.

“We’re gonna get you on the stretcher and to the hospital now, alright?”

She nodded, leaning closer towards him. “Thank you.” Slowly, she pushed up to standing, using the counter to steady herself. The stretcher was outside the door, only a few steps, but she faltered, stumbling forward.

Joseph immediately reached an arm out, catching her before she could hit the ground. She yelped, and her eyes went wide as her body ung itself around him and latched on tight. Her legs became Jello, and he was the only thing holding her up.

It was textbook erstratory comfort seeking behavior. He’d seen it plenty of times, at least once or twice a week, while working for OEMS, but Alex seemed more surprised by it. She immediately tried to pull away, but her body didn’t let her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her head pushing into the crook of his neck.

The scent blockers prevented her from smelling what she was looking for, as did the fact that he was a beta. “It’s okay. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Her scent had changed, less bitter, more relaxed, but still worried. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.” Another cramp tore through her, and he had to support even more of her weight.

“You’re alright. I’ll help you over to the stretcher and we’ll see if you can let go then.” He kept his arms wrapped around her, mainly to keep her upright, but also because the touch was obviously soothing for her.

She groaned, nuzzling in closer as he helped her out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay. It’s normal.” He slowly let her down on the edge of the stretcher. “Do you think you can let go now?”

There was a tearful “no,” as she pressed into him.

“Alright.” He was quiet for a second. “I’m going to scoot you all the back to the crease, and then Eric’s gonna help you let go.”

“Thanks.” Unconsciously, she squeezed him tighter.

Joseph kept her supported as he moved her up the stretcher, one hand supporting her head and the other holding her back. She muttered something quietly into the crook of his neck. “What was that, Alex?”

“I don’t wanna let go.” Her voice was a little louder this time. “ ‘m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Gently, he let her head down. “There's a cuddle pillow for you in the ambulance. We just gotta get you there, alright?”

“Oh…okay.” She nodded a little.

“Eric’s gonna help you let go, alright?”

Behind him, Eric started to carefully uncouple her hands, peeling her fingers off her wrists. He set them down on the stretcher, and she whimpered trying to push closer. Joseph pulled away, finally breaking contact.

Alex shrunk in on herself, another cramp ripping through her. “It ‘urts.”

“We’ll get you to the hospital, just a little longer,” he said. She reached out, wrapping a hand around the bare skin just above where his glove ended. It was clear her touch needs weren’t being met. Hopefully, the hospital would be able to set her up with a better care worker.

They put the stretcher up and pushed her to the ambulance. The scent had repelled most people, and Joseph was glad they didn’t have an audience. He locked the stretcher in place, taking a seat on her left side.

“I’m gonna get a line in while Eric gets your vitals, then we’ll get you that pillow,” he said. Her hand was still locked around his wrist, and he gently removed it so he could use her hand.

Eric clipped the pulse ox to her finger and wrapped the cuff around her upper arm while Joseph slid a 22 into her hand. She laid there, tensing up as another cramp pumpled her. “Are you allergic to anything?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Not that I know off.”

Eric rattled off her vitals, along with her weight and height, before turning around to dig out the pillow. She was warm, too warm, even for an omega in heat. Her breathing was still fast, along with her heart rate. Between that, the cramps, and the touch hunger, it seemed to be a pretty severe breakthrough estrus.

“Alex, I’m gonna give you some meds to help with your heat, alright?” He unzipped his medication bag as he spoke. “We’ll get on the road after this.”

She nodded, but was more distracted by the cuddle pillow Eric was laying beside her. Immediately, her arms and legs were wrapped around it, and exhaled as she nuzzled her face into it.

“I’m gonna get us up and moving,” Eric said as he peeled his gloves off and dropped them into the bin.

Joseph nodded, and the door closed behind him with a thunk. He quickly drew up the meds, a small dose of a mild suppressant and a synthetic hormone that would help relieve the cramps. “I’m gonna need your hand.”

She groaned, but pulled it off the pillow for him anyway. “Thank you.” He ushed the line and pushed the drugs.

Eric pulled them out of the parking lot, accelerating as he hit the main road. Alex wrapped her hand back around the pillow, curling up tighter. The pillow was helping. Her breathing and pulse had slowed, and her scent was much more relaxed. She still smelled sick, but signicantly less distressed. He made his report to the hospital, listing off the info they would need to know.

A couple minutes later, she started to scratch at her hand, picking at the Tegaderm. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but try to leave it alone. We’re only about five minutes away.”

She stopped messing with it, instead moving up higher and dragging her fingernails up and down her arm. “It itches.”

A pit opened up in his gut. This was going to be a thing now, wasn’t it? Just great. “Can I see?”

He took her arm in her hands, turning it over as he examined it. It was covered in hives. “Alex, you said you weren’t allergic to anything. Did your parents have any allergies?”

“I…uh…I don’t know. They both died when I was pretty young.” The fear had returned to her scent in full force, stinking up the back of the ambulance in the same way only it could.

“Okay. You having any diculty breathing?” Her tongue or face weren’t swollen, but he could hear each inhale and exhale.

She pulled the pillow closer. “A little.”

“I think you’re having a reaction to the meds I gave you,” he said as he drew up a syringe of epinephrine as he watched her. “I’m going to give you something to counteract it.”

Alex didn’t fight it as he took her hand in his so he could push the epi. She started to smell more frantic, her breathing speeding up. After updating the hospital and a brief chat with Eric, the sirens started to wail.

“It feels like there's something in my throat.” She said, eyes flickering around frantically. Her voice was pitched up, stress.

As he spoke, he set up his fluids. “It might take the epi a little bit to kick in. I’ve got you.”

Her expression grew more frantic, and her scent went sour, intensifying to an overpowering level. “It’s hard…It’s hard to breathe.”

“I know, I know.” He went ahead and started prepping an infusion, and upped the amount of oxygen she was receiving. “We’re nearly to the hospital. Is it getting any better?”

The epi should’ve started properly working by now, and they were only a few minutes away from the hospital. He didn’t want to stop and tube her now if he didn’t absolutely have to.

“It’s not getting worse.” She stammered, mouth hanging wide open.

“That’s good. You’re doing great.” The mass of hospital buildings was visible out of the back window. They were inches away from the ER.

She squeezed the pillow tighter, making a distressed keen. Her stats weren’t dropping and her blood pressure was holding steady. It looked like they would make it through the doors with her consciousness.

Eric turned into the parking lot and drove them up the entrance, and they wasted no time getting her into the hospital. He gave report as they transferred her from stretcher to bed, then quickly got out of the way after they weren’t needed anymore.

He’d ignored the odd pull on his heart as they left the building, chalking it up to the absolutely stink-fest the back of his rig was.

It was only ten hours later when his phone rang.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch

@rainbowsandwhumperflies @snaillamp

#worlds babbles #whump #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #medical whump #medic caretaker #tw assault #anaphylaxis #whump writing #this is a little different than normal lol #but it’s fun to write and there’s potential #hope y’all enjoy my brain garbage

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mckitterick · 10 months

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Manatee Bay, Florida, reports ocean temperature of 101.1°F (38°C), a global record

Ocean temperatures are also breaking records in the North Atlantic and Mediterranean this week.

The ocean has warmed unabated since 1970, having absorbed more than 90% of excess heat from the climate system, and is now seven degrees hotter than normal.

Why is this bad?

Rising global temperatures decrease oxygen solubility in water, increase the rate of oxygen consumption via respiration, and reduce the introduction of oxygen from the atmosphere and surface waters into the ocean interior by increasing stratification and weakening ocean overturning circulation.

Low-oxygen zones increase production of N2O (a potent greenhouse gas), reduce biodiversity, alter food webs, and negatively affect food security and livelihoods. Both acidification and rising temperature are linked with deoxygenation and combine with low-oxygen conditions to affect biogeochemical, physiological, and ecological processes.

Global warming is the primary cause of ongoing deoxygenation. Models project further oxygen declines during the 21st century, even with ambitious emission reductions.

But wait, there's more.

How could ocean warming be catastrophic?

Clathrates are deposits of methane trapped within ice on the bottom of the ocean, usually off the continental shelf where decaying biological material has flowed from the land into the seas for millennia.

Methane is a potent greenhouse gas, possessing global-warming potential 72× greater than carbon dioxide.

Sudden release of large amounts of natural gas from long-frozen methane clathrate deposits likely were responsible for Earth's sudden runaway warming 630 million years ago, the Permian-Triassic extinction event, and the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum.

Our greatest hope right now is that most clathrates lie deep under the ocean where temperatures are less likely to rise rapidly enough to melt their ice caps.

However, some methane clathrate deposits are much shallower, making them far more vulnerable to warming. A deposit off Canada in the Beaufort Sea and another in the East Siberian Arctic Shelf are as shallow as 45 meters, so even slight ocean warming could quickly release gas from the currently frozen methane.

Not less than 1,400 gigatons of methane currently lurk under the Arctic submarine permafrost, with up to 50 gigatons of methane hydrate highly likely to be abruptly released at any time.

A release on this scale would increase the methane content of the planet's atmosphere by a factor of twelve, equivalent in greenhouse effect to doubling the level of CO2.

Recognizing this threat led to the "Clathrate Gun" hypothesis. A 2012 study concluded that melting these Arctic methane clathrates would mean a 1000-fold free methane increase in a single pulse, increasing atmospheric temperatures by more than 6°C in 80 years.

(map of methane clathrate deposits worldwide)

The worst part of all this horror is that such a sudden warming is also likely to set off other methane clathrate deposits across the world, sending Earth into an ever-increasing temperature spiral akin to those ancient extinction events.

So, yeah, ocean temperatures like this are not just red flags, but radioactively glowing warning signs of impending worldwide disaster.

#clathrates #greenhouse gasses #climate change #global warming #clathrate gun

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she-wolf09231982 · 10 months

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Chapter 2-The Prodigal Soldier Returns

Summary: The day of the Super Solider Serum infusion arrives, and you may or may not emerge as the next gender bend Captain America. Either way, you survive Howard Stark’s experiment, and carry the torch supporting and defending the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic…and possibly intergalactic.

58 years later, Nick Fury and agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. discover Steve Rogers still alive and cryogenically preserved in ice. Rogers is returned immediately to New York for rehabilitation and recovery from his 66-year slumber under ice. When Steve is finally acclimated to his new 21st century life, he eventually bumps into you at the compound.

Author Note: Steve Rogers x Female!Avenger, Captain America x Female!Avenger, Y/N, L/N=Wolf, Reader!EnhancedAvenger, Avenger name She-Wolf, Avengers, Marvel movie references, Howard Stark, Maria Stark, Peggy Carter, Nick Fury, Agent Phil Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D., story begins in 1953 ends in 2011, Military and Medical terminology, Pre/Post Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre Avengers

*Bold Italics represent character thoughts and flashbacks

~~~~~~~~

1953

The lab room suddenly became chaotic. Alarms started to sound off on the heart monitor connected to the Vita-Ray Chamber and red warning lights flashing. Your face began visibly wincing from pain in the window of the encasement you were locked into.

The serum made your blood pressure spike, edging you close to what could be a heart attack.

“Howard! Cut the infusion! Her heart rate is dangerously high!” Peggy called out over the commotion of white lab coats running around.

Howard Stark began to rush over to the main controls to shut down the serum transmission when he suddenly heard your voice through the container.

“NO! Keep going!” You pushed. You’ve worked too hard to stop now.

Peggy and Howard exchanged concerned glances.

“Stark, she’s only at 70% completion. If she’s already struggling now imagine what will happen to her at 100%.” Peggy cautioned.

Howard looked at the serum percentage meter indicating how much of the I.V. was imported into your blood stream. The meter continued to rise… 75%...80%...85%...

He glanced at your face in the viewing window of the chamber. Your eyes shut tight; jaw clenched doing your best to not black out.

…89%...90%...

“Stark??” Peggy yelled.

Your heart can take no more. Your heart rate reaches its limit causing you to go limp inside the box.

“Shut it down!!” Howard called out as he raced to the Vita-Ray Chamber door to force it open as fast as he could. Peggy joined him to assist.

You had flat lined. The sound of a steady drone from the heart monitor filled the room.

The extreme heat of the chamber had expanded the metal from within, making the door almost impossible to open.

One of the lab coats brought a crowbar to pry the latch. After a little bit of muscle and leverage, the door sprung open. Steam projected outward overflowing the room, blocking the view of you. Howard and Peggy began fanning the air so they could see you.

There you were, still vertically strapped in, head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed…still not breathing.

“…Howard.” Peggy said with breathy distress while looking at you.

Howard walked up to your lifeless form, placed two fingers to your carotid artery on your neck to locate a pulse. As soon as he pressed into your skin your eyes sprang wide open.

You gasp loud and harsh, frightening everyone in the room, causing Howard to fall backward into Peggy.

Exceptionally confused and panicked, your eyes darted side to side trying to get a grasp on what had just occurred. As the heart monitor machine came back to life beeping frantically, the lab started humming again, everyone calling out results and observations over eachother from their stations.

“Heart rate is detected and, on the rise…”

“Oxygen levels at 100%…”

“Blood pressure is getting high, Mr. Stark…”

“Her muscle mass increased by 70%!!”

“If we don’t calm her down, she may go into shock, Agent Carter…”

Peggy took the initiative.

“Everyone, simmer down!” She commanded the room. All the lab coats froze.

She walked over to you and in a soothing tone, spoke to you.

“Y/N, you’re going to be alright. The experiment was a success. You did it.” she said calmly.

She held your face firmly between her hands, so you focused on her. Your breath was short and fast as Peggy continued.

“Deep breaths, Wolf. In…” She inhaled with you.

“Out.” She exhaled with you.

You repeated this until you finally relaxed.

Howard approached you. “Y/N, how do you feel?”

You took a minute to assess yourself.

You noticed your white pajama set was suddenly quite snug. Some parts were even torn especially in the shoulder and thigh area. The hem of your pants that once hung closer to your feet were now shorter revealing your ankles and calves.

“I feel…taller?” You respond first. “And sweaty.”

Stark’s mouth curved into a triumphant grin. The serum worked. And it showed.

Your body was evidently more toned, developed muscles straining against the fabric of your white outfit. Pants now hanging at your calves instead of below your ankles, you’ve obviously grown at least 5 inches. You were a colossus compared to former your self.

Howard offered his hand to help you out after releasing the safety harnesses, but you stumble out like a newborn giraffe as both he and Peggy catch you before you hit the ground.

“Get a wheelchair over here now!” Stark called out.

He looked back at you. “This is the beginning of something big, Y/N. You are going to be part of some of the greatest stories in America’s history.”

You only nod at first since you are too weak to be excited about anything yet.

“Mr. Stark, I’d like to take a nap first if you don’t mind?” You finally responded.

The room chuckled in unison.

~~~~~~~~

2011

You spent the next 58 years battling local crimes in New York, and eventually deploying overseas mostly assisting medical squadrons or rebuilding critical structures for allies and joint forces in combat zones. You were utilized during conflicts such as The Vietnam War, Desert Storm, and The Global War on Terrorism. You were especially useful during Operation Iraqi Freedom clearing potentially hostile locations with Special Forces and patrolling with convoys to secure safe passage for American military to travel.

The Super Soldier Serum’s organic preservatives left you looking and feeling your best since the infusion in 1953. You didn’t look or feel a day over 25 in over five decades because of it. However, you were only able to withstand 90% of the serum’s deposit, therefore you weren’t at full potential of your superhuman capabilities, unfortunately. Nonetheless, you were still a success story in Howard Stark’s eyes.

Sadly, in December 1991 while you were tasked to a recovery detail in Eastern Europe, you returned to American soil to be met by an Agent Nick Fury with grave news. Howard Stark and his wife, Maria, were killed by a HYDRA assassin while you were away. This information absolutely ruined you. You didn’t take Howard’s death very well. You progressively became a shell of your former self, sinking into a depressive state. Since then, you became quite an introvert and kept a low-profile spending most of your time at the gym, in the library reading, or in your sleeping quarters.

Through it all, you still led a life of service to your country when called upon in memory of your surrogate father. Nick Fury assumed command of S.H.I.E.L.D. by this time and took you under his wing, making sure to commission you with new assignments to continue Stark’s legacy.

Even though you were one of Howard’s greatest accomplishments in decades, a resurfacing discovery by S.H.I.E.L.D had the entire compound particularly energetic today. You were leaving the gym and noticed all the lab coats buzzing back and forth whispering to eachother. You also hadn’t seen Fury in a few days, which was unusual because you would usually get a debrief from him of your assignments every night for the following day.

As that thought crossed your mind, he appeared before you.

“Y/N, just the woman I’m looking for. Come with me.” He ushered you down the hall.

You were utterly perplexed, but continued to follow him down the halls having no idea where he was taking you.

“Director Fury?” You began.

He continued walking at a brisk pace. “Hm?” was his response.

“Forgive me if I’m not up to speed on what’s happening here, but….”

You tread lightly about asking too many questions because Fury’s mind was obviously busy, and you weren’t sure if he was really listening to you. You pause as you arrive at a long observing window that peered into what looked to be a hospital room. He gestured towards the window.

“Have a look for yourself.” He invited.

You walk up to the glass and look through. In the hospital bed laid a man peacefully asleep.

Your heart stilled as you stared at this alluring stranger.

He had a thick head of blonde hair, disheveled strands laying softly across his forehead. A chiseled jawline, perfect nose, flawless skin, and the longest lashes any woman would be jealous of. And dear God, arms that look like they could crush concrete.

You stood there with your mouth agape staring at this brawny, angelic creature in front of you.

Fury tilted his head to the side observing your reaction. He was mildly entertained by your moment of shock that rendered you completely speechless.

“You know who this man is, Y/N.” He finally tells you.

You shake your head to snap out of your hypnosis. You look at Fury and raise an eyebrow at him. Clearly indicating you didn’t understand.

“Is that a question or a statement, sir?” You ask.

Fury chuckled as he continued.

“This, my friend, is the one and only Steve Rogers…TheCaptain America.” He explained.

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief.

“But sir…” You began.

“Yes, I know, but we discovered him conserved cryogenically under ice a few days ago.” He explained.

You look back through the window.

“Alive? But…how?” You manage to ask.

“Well, blood tests revealed that his blood contained excessive amounts of glucose as a result of his liver processing his glycogen storage, thus lowering the freezing temperature of blood-borne water and creating a 'cryoprotectant'. This process is similar to those of hibernating bears and wood frogs that metabolize glycogen in their liver to circulate ample amounts through their body to reduce the osmotic shrinkage of cells and prevents them from freezing. This, however, has never been seen before in humans.” Fury explained in a ‘matter of fact’ manner.

Your confusion must have reflected on your face because he reiterated by simply saying,

“Howard Stark’s preservative components in the serum allowed Rogers to survive freezing temperatures.”

You nod, “I see. You could’ve just led off with that, sir.”

~~~~~~~~

With Captain America resurrected, the atmosphere at the facility completely shifted. Agent Phil Coulson addressed the public to officially confirm Steve Rogers’ return. Which was an absolute honor for him since he was a huge fan of Captain America and everything he represents. All the lab coats walking around were all a flutter about Captain America’s presence in the building…especially the females which made you utterly nauseous.

You, on the other hand, thought everyone was being overdramatic. You were particularly curious about what would happen next, though. What did this mean for S.H.I.E.L.D.? For America? Where did this leave you? Questions stirred relentlessly in your head for days. Every thought of what could happen next now that Steve was back didn’t have a good outlook for you no matter which way you spun it. These intrusive thoughts keep your brain busy, causing you to lose sleep at night.

You became very irritable with the few people you came into contact with throughout the day, so you decided to spend more time training in the boxing gym hitting the heavy bag. Fury frequently gave you direct orders to hit the showers and sleep it off, which you begrudgingly comply with out of respect.

Fury knew you were less than pleased by Steve’s return, and he was correct in assuming so. Your mental and emotional balance was already thrown off by the passing of Howard and Maria. Now you felt your livelihood hung by a thread because of the sudden homecoming of the prodigal soldier. You felt resentment and anger with every passing thought. And as assignments grew scarce, there were less deployments to redirect your attention leaving you with little to no outlet for your concentrated emotions.

One sleepless night, you once again find yourself hooking deep punches into the midriff of a 100 lbs (45.359 kg) Everlast boxing bag. Your hands only ever wrapped in sports tape, your knuckles are constantly bruised and swollen by the excessive number of times you spend pummeling the cylinder sack.

Sweat beading on your forehead and soaking through your shirt, hissing out loud every time each hand makes contact, you’re so deep in the zone surrounded by fire and wrath that you didn’t notice Steve had entered the room. He stood there watching you intensely while holding his gym bag in one hand, as he held a towel in the other. You deliver one final blow to the bag, sending it across the room like a projectile into the brick wall opposite you. You stood there panting, staring at the pile of other destroyed boxing bags that you’ve launched with your fits of physical rage.

“Wow.” Steve said impressed with a half-smile.

You turn your attention to him, meeting his blue eyes from where you stood. Your eyebrows furrowed still trying to catch your breath. You realize it was only him, so you turned away without responding, (not before pursing your lips together in disdain while rolling your eyes). You pick up your hand towel and wipe your face, then retrieve a new heavy bag, lifting with one hand effortlessly hanging it, replacing the one you just demolished.

Steve coughed awkwardly, sensing the thick air in the room between the two of you.

You started to stretch in front of one of the mirrors that had a ballet barre, completely disregarding the man behind you.

“We haven’t formally met yet.” Steve stated.

You let out an audible exasperated sigh. You barely glance over your shoulder, almost acknowledging him, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m Steve Rogers. Brooklyn. It’s good to finally meet you…”

His voice was smooth and resonating…Like honey. He spoke deep from the chest and his voice projected, yet he didn’t need to yell. His voice just traveled through the room to you like music and almost had you melting into a puddle.

“Get it together, idiot…” You told yourself.

You decided to remain cordial. Even though you’d rather not engage with him at all, it’s what Howard would’ve wanted.

“You know who I am?” You finally responded with your back still facing him.

“I know of you, yes. Word is you were my protégé after I disappeared.” He replied.

“Is that all that was said about me?” You asked.

“Of course not.” He assured confidently.

You turned around while dabbing your neck with your towel, then draped it around your nape holding each end with your hands. You looked at Steve and started to walk towards him. Steve was positively handsome, and although he appeared intimidating and confident, he still had little experience interacting with women…especially if he found them attractive. As the gap closed between the two of you, his heart proceeded to beat faster. Your supersonic hearing picked it up right away, and you relished the effect you had on him.

Steve tried to diffuse his ascending apprehension as you stood feet from him.

“Um,” he started to scratch the back of his head bashfully, “if you’re up to it, maybe you can show me around the compound sometime?” He suggested.

You raise your eyebrows and inquisitively squint at him. Your mouth involuntarily curled into a grin because he looks so stinkin’ cute standing there tensed up in suspense, holding his breath, waiting on your response.

“Sure, Cap.” You say curtly. Steve let out a sigh of relief.

“Wanna start tomorrow?” You ask him.

“Uh, sure.” He replied.

“Meet me here at 0800?”

“Ok!”

You nod at him, shoulder your backpack and breeze past him without another word, leaving him slightly stunned and bewildered.

He watched you leave until he couldn’t see you anymore.

“Phew…that was exhausting.” Steve said out loud to himself.

You chuckle to yourself because you were totally close enough to hear that.

You kind of felt bad messing with him, but you’re the one that has seniority here. Even though he’s older than you and is the original super soldier, he’s “the man out of time” having been asleep under ice for almost 70 years. The horrific things you’ve seen and experienced during those years have hardened your heart and you weren’t one to coddle anyone anymore. Not even America’s favorite poster boy from Brooklyn.

~~~~~~~~

At 0745, you walk into the gym and see Steve sitting on a stool in a corner of the boxing ring. You shoot a perplexed look at him and smirk.

“How long have you been here?” You call out to him.

He looked up.

“Long enough.” He said simply smiling back.

“Waiting to go a few rounds with me, Cap?” You ask almost too flirtatiously.

Steve scoffed then stood up.

“No ma’am, I would never hit a lady.” He responded.

“I’m no average lady, Rogers.” You replied sternly. You weren’t about to let him categorize or underestimate you.

Steve’s smile faded to a look of fascination and curiosity.

“Should we head out then?” You ask.

Steve nodded and exited the gym with you.

~~~~~~~~

“I never knew a place could have so many…levels.” Steve said as you walk off the elevator where the living quarters were.

Up until now, you were the only one residing in dorms. Now Steve shared this building with you but had his room in another wing. It had a common area, an impressive kitchen, dining and living room and a full gym on a separate floor.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. obviously spared no expense.” You stated.

Steve nodded in agreement. He continued to admire the surroundings.

“So? What do you think, Cap?” You finally ask.

Steve looked at you confused.

You gesture to everything around you.

“All of this. What do you think?”

Steve let out a puff of breath and looked around again in thought.

“Well…” He started “it’s going to take a lot getting used to.” He finished.

“Mmhm.” You hum.

He continued.

“But I’ll manage.” He added confidently.

“I sure hope so.” A voice rang out from across the living room area.

Director Fury stood at the doorway, then proceeded to walk towards you.

“Director.” You greeted as he approached. He nodded at you.

“I see you two are getting along just fine.” Fury said with an almost visible smirk.

You released a faint laugh.

“Y/N has been very hospitable.” Steve responded earnestly then looked at you with a soft smile.

You felt yourself blushing when your eyes met his.

“Snap out of it, you idiot.” You scold yourself.

“Good, because one day, you’ll need to work as a team.” Fury explained.

You snap your head at Fury with anger rising in your chest like lava.

“Director??” You ask almost with panic in your voice.

Nick Fury released an irritated sigh, rolling his eye before facing you.

“Y/N, we discussed this. Why do you insist on acting this is the first time you’re hearing this?”

“Because, sir, I never agreed to it.” You pointed out.

“Last time I checked, Wolf, my title is ‘Director.’ I don’t need your consent nor your approval.” Fury retorted in a very parental tone.

Steve just sat, arms folded across his chest while his eyes flitted between you and Fury like he was watching a tennis game.

“With all due respect, Director, I refuse.” You declared.

“Excuse me?” Fury dared you to repeat.

“I refuse.” You restated boldly.

Fury began to open his mouth to reprimand you until Steve cut in.

“Ok now this is escalating quickly.” Steve said while inserting himself between you and Fury.

“Director, perhaps allow Miss Wolf and I to build more rapport before talking about working in the field together? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” He suggested.

Fury studied Steve, then looked at you.

“Fine. Understand this now, though, when you two are called upon, you will be responding…together.” Fury declared.

You only respond by crossing your arms. Fury turned on his heel and exited, leaving you there with this annoyingly reasonable and infuriatingly gorgeous super soldier.

~~~~~~~~

#marvel #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #the avengers #marvel cinematic universe #howard stark #peggy carter #phil coulson #nick fury #chris evans #red white and blue #america's ass #stars and stripes #shewolf #the first avenger #agents of shield #super soldier

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autisticsupervillain · 9 months

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Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to Stats Equalized!

The show where we equalize strength, speed, and durability to decide who would win a battle of hax, skill, and versatility.

This Month's Fighters...

Isaac Clarke vs Jacob Lee!

Conditions:

No Restrictions.

Jackb has his Final Transmission weapons

Scenario:

The illegal cargo that Jacob was smuggling to Callisto included detailed instructions on how to construct a Necromorph Marker. This results in Isaac tracking him to Black Iron prison to kill him and destroy the Marker's instructions.

Analysis: Isaac

I feel like every job becomes a lot cooler when you do them in Space. Tax Accountant... IN SPACE! Retail Worker... IN SPACE! Maintenance Engineer... IN SPACE! Sure, there's an increased chance that you might get devoured by a bloodthirsty hive mind that's hellbent on devouring all life in the galaxy, but for some unlucky space engineers, that's just an occupational hazard.

Meet Isaac Clarke, a lowly systems engineer employeed by the Concordance Extraction Corporation who gets called in to repair the "planet cracker" USG Ishimura when they send out a distress signal. Rather than, say, a broken antenna or an overloaded reactor core, the Ishimura has come down with a rather more unusual case of man eating space monsters.

Meet the Necromorphs, undead hive mind abominations intent on devouring, assimilating, or just out right killing all life that isn't them. They're none too picky with how they kill you and none too picky with what you do to them. They just don't die no matter what you do to them. Blow their heads off, cut them in half, pump them full of lead, it doesn’t matter. They will rush you down with zero hesitation regardless. And what's worse that they can get humans to do their job for them, using their "Markers" to not only organize the Necromorphs like one organize, but also corrupt the minds of humans into forming an cult around the Necromorphs, serving the Marker's whims.

Luckily for Isaac, he's a bit of a master of improvised weaponry, meaning he has all the tools he needs to clear these Markers out. Firstly, he's decked out head to toe in a fancy RIG suit. This Resource Integration Gear comes equipped with all the tools necessary to help its user survive on the job hazards, even if Space Aliens probably weren't what the makers had in mind for it. His RIG suit can vacuum seal when exposed to suboptimal breathing conditions, be that poisonous gas or the vacuum of space, forcing Isaac to rely on an internal oxygen supply. However, this supply is limited and only lasts for about a minute and a half. Furthermore, his RIG is equipped with thrusters that allow to freely fly around in zero g or low g environments like Iron Man.... IN SPACE! ...Ahem. Sorry. I'll stop.

Furthermore, his suit can come equipped with several Modules that can modify its performance and abilities. The Kinesis Module can allow him to telekinetically lift and throw heavy objects from several meters away with just the wave of his hand, while the Stasis Module temporarily slows down time for whatever object he waves his hand at, allowing him to dodge super fast projectiles, freeze enemies in place, or catch Necromorphs that are glitching through time thanks to their damages Stasis RIGs.

In terms of fire arms, Isaac has fire power to spare. His improvised plasma cutter, original designed to cut up large boulders, is equipped with a rotating blade, allowing for long horizontal and diagonal shots that are just perfect for cutting the limbs off Necromorphs. Even if you can't kill them, they can't chase you down without limbs.

The pulse rifle is a powerful motorized gun with a secondary fire the shoots bullets in a 360 degree radius, while the Disc Ripper shoots out a powerful romote control buzz saw that cuts through anything in its path, with a secondary fire that makes the spinning blades bounce all over the damn place. The torch flame thrower spews out fire that burns at 4000 degrees Celsius with a secondary fire that shoots a big napalm grenade, while the Cutter Line Gun is a more powerful Plasma Cutter that shoots out landmines with its secondary fire.

The contact beam is an energy jackhammer meant to blast apart rock that can create shockwaves across the ground to dispatch swarms. The Javelin Gun fires electric titanium spikes that can explode, the Seeker Rifle is a futuristic sniper rifle, and the Force Gun obliterates everything in front of it by firing pure kinetic energy. Finally, the Hand Cannon is a large foam sports hand that kills everything Isaac points at with it. Without exception.

Isaac in an experienced technological genius, capable of throwing together a good chunk of his weapons by himself on the spot. Hell, he's smart enough to build a Marker on his own... while under a Marker's mind control, granted, but still. You can't really hold that against him. As time gas gone on, Isaac has grown more and more resilient to the influence of Markers, capable of resisting their control and effects through sheer will power alone. This is impressive when you realize the Marker's mind control is collectively powerful to formulate one of the most dominant and wide spread religions in human history, with a mental influence that can span planets or even the entire solar system. Moreover, Isaac's suit is resilient against extreme temperatures, radiation, and acid and can pump him full of stimulants to keep him from being drugged unconscious.

One man, one lowly engineer has done what an entire army could not and, by himself, destroyed three Markers over the course of his life. Hell, those first two might as well have happened the exact same day from his perspective. Isaac Clarke, ladies and gentlemen. The man the dead fear.

Analysis: Jacob

Space. The Final Frontier. A place only fit to be explored when all other options are exhausted. When the Earth has no more life left in it and humanity has no other place to go. It is a hellish, lifeless void incapable of even carrying your screams. It is the graveyard of the universe and in no other world is this fact more apparent than the hellish world.... of PUBG.

....What's that? That got retconned? The Callisto Protocol isn't canon to PUBG anymore? Fuck. Alright, fine. In no other universe is this fact more apparent than the hellish world of The Callisto Protocol.

Humanity is struggling to survive in space after all other options have been extinguished and Earth's resources have been used up. Without the means to leave the solar system, crime and poverty are rampant across human society, forcing down on his luck space trader Jacob Lee to turn to some ethically questionable lines of work. He strikes up a deal with the United Jupiter Company to smuggle some illegal cargo to Jupiter's moon Callisto. This results in him getting hijacked by The Outer Way, a terrorist group fighting against the UJC, which then results in him crash landing on Callisto. This gets him thrown into the supermax prison Black Iron for illegal smuggling.

Thankfully, he isn't there long, as a riot begins not long after he's thrown into his cell. Unfortunately, the riot was caused by a zombie outbreak. The warden had discovered a super virus called the Biophage deep within Callisto and, believing it's adaptive properties would allow humans to better survive in space, unleashed the virus on all the inmates and ordered the security drones to kill everyone as a way of testing it. Now, Jacob must desperately fight for his survival in a prison where everyone and everything wants him dead.

Luckily, he stumbles across quite a few useful gadgets while on his way out. His armored space suit allows him survive the hellish conditions of Callisto's surface, where the temperatures can get as low as -139.2 C°. His prison shiv, crowbar, and electric stun baton allow him to pummel the infected up close, even against monsters strong enough to rip off heads, crush skulls, and rip human beings in half. Final Transmission gives him the Kinetic Hanmer, a massive hammer that can store and charge up kinetic energy to make his swings hit even harder. His Hand Cannon is a nifty side arm with an alt fire that fires explosive rounds, while his tactical pistol comes with a burst fire mode. His skunk gun shotgun fires homing rounds, his riot gun shotgun fires explosive rounds, and his assault rife fires smart bullets, advanced homing rounds that can maneuvers themselves around obstacles while tracking down their targets. And each of these guns is powerful enough to pierce the metal alloy of Black Iron's security drones, who are strong enough to effortlessly rip the titanium doors off spaceships. But Jacob's most advanced weapon is his Gravity Restraint Projector, a drvice on his arm that manipulates gravity to allow Jacob to effortlessly lift heavy objects and even people. He can throw you off a cliff or into a wall of spikes with just a wave of his hand.

His arsenal isn't entire good, though. Jacob suffers from what I like to call Gordon Freeman Syndrome, where his perfectly serviceable space suit and armor doesn't have a helmet. Only Jacob's is worse because he DID have a perfectly good helmet, he just took it off for no reason. And secondly, there's the CORE device strapped into the back of his neck. While it does monitor the health status of all prisoners at Black Iron and make him compatible with their Health Injectors, which Jacob can use to rececitate himself even while his heart is stopping, it also exists to monitor his memories. Meaning Jacob is frequently getting flashbacks and suffering from severe hallucinations as a result of his CORE device fucking with his head.

Despite all of that, Jacob is still a survivor. Even as the Biophage zombies evolved to match his tactics, Jacob powered through. Sneaking past blind zombies who had developed echo location and shooting out the weak spots of Zombies who grew hardened skin to resist his bludgeoning. For better and for worse, he's willing to do whatever he has to ensure his own safety. To the point that the breakout at Black Iron was actually his fault, as the illegal cargo he was carrying for the UJC turned out to be the Biophage pathogen. Realizing that he's indirectly killed thousands in his selfishness, Jacob works to undo the harm he's done, working with The Outer Way to reveal the Warden's corruption and ultimately giving his life to ensure the solar system knows about all that happened at Black Iron.

Throwdown Theme:

youtube

Throwdown Breakdown:

What's interesting about the dynamic of this matchup is that their advantages are flipped relative to their gameplay. The gameplay of Dead Space prioritizes keeping your distance and carving Necromorphs to bits before they get you, but here Issac's wide variety of weapons gives him an edge in close quarters combat. Jacob has no counter to something like the flamethrower up close and melee range would make it easier for Isaac to land Stasis on him for an easy win. Meanwhile, the gameplay of Callisto focuses strongly on melee combat, while here Jacob's guns give him an advantage over Clarke at a distance. Especially with homing bullets. And, of course, both have what is essentially sci-fi telekinesis.

However, Issac has a few distinct advantages here that make this his game. While Jacob's weapons are better suited to ranged combat, Issac's wider variety of weapons gives him a lot of answers to Jacob's tricks, leaving Lee struggling to adapt. The Disc Ripper and the Plasma Cutter's give Isaac a control over the environment that Jacob would struggle to adapt to, while the Pulse Rifle's secondary fire makes getting near him a death sentence. And Isaac's just plain and simply smarter and more experienced, with three games of monster killing under his belt to fall back. Jacob is determined, but Isaac's been pushed past the point of madness more than once, and most of his arsenal is stuff he's made himself. Isaac would almost certainly understand how stuff like the Kinetic Hammer works just by seeing Jacob charge it up.

Jacob is a tough bastard to kill, but against someone who's just as tough to out down, but much smarter and more versatile than he is, he can only do so much.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Isaac Clarke!

#fictional throwdown fridays #stats equalized #dead space #isaac clarke #the callisto protocol #jacob lee #Youtube

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cpr612 · 2 years

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First small resus story, so I hope you like it

P.S. English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for the poor vocabulary and/or bad grammar

We all were on a liner taking a boat trip in NYC. She clanged tightly to her lover and did not leave him for an hour, talking about something and laughing loudly. And this is in broad daylight, in a place where there are a lot of acquaintances around! And in the end, she was not at all embarrassed by my presence either. Quite the opposite. Teasing the crowd has always been her favorite pastime. Part of me was furious, as always, when she's hanging around her Aidan, but the other part admired her audacity. “With your head held high, a beaming smile and sparkling eyes, you are very pleased with yourself, right, my kitty? The more absurd the figure of your unhappy lover looks against your background, casting guiltily fearful glances alternately at me, then at the bow of the ship, where his own wife was talking to some acquaintances now. How could you love such a nobody?”- once again flashed through my head and I turned away from this cute scene with disgust, looking at the approaching embankment.

I didn't catch exactly what happened. Just at one point, in the middle of her laughter, I heard a shrill hail. "Charlotte! Caution! The fence!" Aidan shouted in a broken voice, and when I turned around quickly, she was no longer on the deck of the ship. "Fuck" - only had time to flash through my mind as I rushed to the edge of the deck, ripping off my jacket on the move. For a moment, while I quickly took off my shoes and vest, my gaze lingered on Aidan, white as snow, standing helplessly with his arms outstretched. He was completely useless now, as he always has been. Turning away, I jumped into the dark blue abyss. It was already May, but the water was still damn cold. It took only about ten seconds before I cowardly showed myself on the surface, but it seemed to me that I have time to see the edge of her green dress. Taking in more air, I dived deeper again, desperately trying to see her in the dirty water. For a while I tossed helplessly under the water, until finally I noticed her thin hand stretched out to the sun. Without wasting another second, I covered the distance between us in two powerful jerks and grabbed her by the arms. She lied limp in my arms, and my heart skipped a beat. Holding her tightly, I began to rise to the surface. Despite her smallness, she seemed very heavy right now, my legs were tangled in her dress, and my lungs were burning, demanding oxygen.

Finally, a few meters remained to the surface, and I came up, greedily gulping air. Blinking from the sunlight, I looked around in search of the shore and saw a surprise. A meter away from us, Aidan’s head was dangling above the water. “I’ll help” - he shouted, quickly approaching me. “I’ll make it” - I replied in a rude tone, but he just nodded and pointed me on the embankment. I understood and started moving towards the shore as fast as I can. Finally reaching land, I handed her to Aidan, who has already climbed ashore, and jumped out myself.

He lied her on the ground and we both leaned over her. With trembling fingers I touched her beautiful pale neck, looking for a pulse. Few seconds passed and I looked up at Aidan. “Nothing” – I could barely whisper, but he understood, freezing in horror, even paler than before. I didn’t have any time to calm him down, so I just screamed as loud as possible to get him out of shock. ”What are you waiting for?! Call the ambulance, bring an AED or something!” He quickly obeyed and ran away on stiff legs somewhere towards the city. Then within a second, I clasped my hands in the middle of her still chest, and started pushing down furiously. “One, two, three, four, five…” – I counted automatically, while my mind had only one word in it - “please!” With every compression I did her body shook and water poured out of her mouth.

The count passed thirty, and I stopped pumping her chest, moving to her full parted lips. Pinching her nose, I tried to exhale oxygen in her lungs as much as I could. “Come on… Please, my dear…” – I whispered in her ear, after blowing into her the second time. But there was still no sign of life in her limp body so I continued giving harsh chest compressions.

I completely lost track of time, working on her repeatedly. She continued to cough up more water, but besides that there weren’t any signs of improvement. “Come on, breathe for me” I kept begging, hoping for a miracle. Finally Aidan returned with the AED and I tore the wet fabric of her dress, releasing her bare breasts. “Give the breaths” - I ordered to Aidan, while placing the pads on her naked chest. “Analysing now. Everyone stand clear” – the machine said and we both we froze in agonizing expectation. “No shockable rhythm” — AED pronounced and a groan of despair escaped from my mouth. “You can’t get up so easily! Come on, my girl, fight!” – I cried, starting working on her again. She now looked even more pale, a bruise began to appear between her breasts and her ribs were cracking with every compression I delivered. My body started demanding a pause, my hands went numb, but nothing could stop me from repeatedly pumping her heart, causing her delicate breasts to bounce. “I can’t let her go. I have no right for it. I have to bring her back…”

After few more rounds of severe compressions, the AED finally found the shockable rhythm. Without wasting any more time I set it on 200 joules and slammed the charge button. Charlotte’s body jerked from electricity, but soon became lifeless again. “No change. Charging again for 300 joules” — the machine said, as I quietly sweared. “Please, my dear, breathe for me! You’re so strong, you must make it!” – I begged again, hitting the orange button. Her body now arched back, I heard a quiet groan, but she reached the ground again as limp as before. “No change”. I almost screamed, setting the AED on 360 joules. “Everyone stand clear”. “Please come back to me, my kitty! Come on!” - I shouted when the machine delivered the third shock. Her back arched highly in the air, her all body trembled through the power of the electricity. She reached the ground for the third time, moments passed without any signs of life but then she finally gasped for air.

With a triumphal cry, I moved her to her side while she coughed up more water. Then I held her tightly to my chest, covering her with random kisses. “Ryan…” - she whispered, semi-conscious, trying to focus her emerald eyes on my face.

“It’s okay, I’m here, my dear. You’re doing great…” I replied, while stroking her head and rocking her like a baby, not quite sure whom I wanted to comfort more, her or myself. We remained in the same position until the sounds of sirens were heard. Lifting my head, I collided with Aidan gaze, only now remembering his existence. He looked terribly embarrassed and it gave me a malicious pleasure. With Charlotte in my arms, I got up and slowly approached the ambulance, explaining the situation to the medics who ran up. Aidan was trailing behind.

“If you’re her husband, you of course can come with us” - the doctor replied, lying her on the stretcher, and then turned to Aidan. “And who’s this young man?..”

“Her brother-in-law” — I quickly answered and then turned to him. “Please, Aidan, if you want to be useful, go and call your own wife. Poor Maggie must have gone crazy with worry. Take care of her first, and then both of you come to the hospital.” He was about to object, but then quickly lowered his eyes, realizing the justice of what has been said. “Call me when you arrive.” — he only managed to say before the ambulance's doors shut, leaving him alone on the street.

Halfway to hospital, I leaned in to Charlotte, squeezing her hand and whisper in her ear. “I’m here, my kitty, and all will be okay. You can't get away from me that easily…”

#cpr resus #cpr #resus #defib #chest compressions

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midnightscxre · 1 year

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@napalmvein ˙[ Closed starter -- side thread ]

The sound of rolling tires on moist gravel pierced the darkness of the unholy hour. If it weren't for the dim light that barely made its way through the high windows of the old Spanish colonial house, gloomy evening would have mercilessly engulfed everything around it when the American muscle's headlights went off. Scarlet haired woman didn't realize how long she had been driving, the beautiful peaceful landscape where the crickets serenaded the moon, the tall grass swaying gently in the hot breeze, the edge of the forest stretching along the north side of the valley. . . she would have admired everything while keeping the oxygen in her lungs if her tunnel focus had not been on the red dot on the smartphone screen, which showed the destination of the entered coordinates. Clare fought with fangs and claws like a she-wolf defending her cubs to get hold of those numbers, to get the ' map ' that would lead her to him.

She never forgot to close the door and turn the key in the lock of her tin pet, now -- the car was left with the driver's door wide open, while the feet swallowed the meters. . . Blood pump was beating mercilessly, pulse hitting the soft skin, lower lip smeared with a blooming scarlet drips because how much the woman was gnawing away from the nervousness that was ripping the guts. She leapt up four stairs like a gazelle on the run, grabbing the door and gasping for air -- she didn't even let up, didn't take a break. A fist slammed aggressively on the door at least five times before a clear, penetrating voice joined the din. " Vincent?! Vincet open up! " the full name left a strange aftertaste on soft muscle, she always used the shortened version.

Worry poured from every pore as the seconds of deafening silence became a minute. A couple of thunderous fresh knocks, this time hitting the underside of the weathered mahogany door with the tip of her sneaker. " Vincet, open the door! " The palms were covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, the stomach was heaving bile. . . What if he is not conscious? What if the injuries are so dangerous and severe that it is impossible to make a sound, let alone reach the door? The thought injected a new dose of trepidation, dread possessing the hourglass shape as some ancient demon. Darting to the nearest window and getting on the tip of the toes, jade irises jumped from left to right in dismay, like a pink pong ball that players throw over the net. A thick layer of dust and a handful of thrown things obstructed the clear view. Few curses fell between the gritted teeth as she lunged at the door again, ready to break the lock with a porch chair.

Clink

Like an angel's trumpet, the sound of the door unlocking froze her in place with relief, but that feeling evaporated like water in the burning sun when she saw a beautiful face full of cuts, a swollen eye, a stooped posture that was not at all characteristic of this man who exuded strength. .Fatigue, exhaustion, pain, and confusion marred everything that normally graced his attitude... drilling a hole in the readhead's heart. " Vinc. . . wha. . . " eyes glazed with teardrops caused by tremendous concern by witnessing Vince's agony, scanned him anxiously. Darting toward the man, delicate hand pressed on the prominent jaw, lifting his head up, other slipping under the ribs as if she wanted to hold him upright. " What happened?! Why aren't you in a damn hospital? " Pointless questions, knowing answer to both, but refusing to make peace with them. Fury rose along the other unpleasant emotions of the harsh fact that Paul rather had Vince in that damn bug-like man's ' one minute ' care to save himself from suspicion from the real doctors. " Where else are you hurt? Are you feeling nauseous, headache, weakness? " Checking the pupils but barely making anything in the pitch black of the night, Clare tenderly lowered the hand to his chest then slid it gently to his ribs. " Are any of your bones broken? Can you breathe normally? " Fearing that his hunched posture might be the result of a fractured ribs, she continued to examine him.

#JS0AODOJDD HERE IT IS --THE SIDE THREAD * HEART EYES*#I am in full Mike Tyson meme mode -- this bitching aint escaping the emotions now......#Bitches **#napalmvien: vince #ft. clare

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hephaestuscrew · 2 years

Text

Time for yet more of my Eiffel & Minkowski emotions! This ficlet is set towards the end of Let's Kill Hilbert. You can also read it on AO3.

Minkowski's heart is still hammering away in her chest like she's just run a marathon. Which is objectively ridiculous, she thinks. Sure, she moved at top speed to Engineering to take that oxygen tank down to Eiffel. And, sure, it's been a pretty exhausting day. But it shouldn't have been physically exhausting. And she's been resting for over an hour since the crisis resolved itself. So this frantic drumbeat in her ribcage makes no sense.

She's used to stress. Life on the Hephaestus is non-stop stress. She's even used to Eiffel nearly dying. She thinks back to the deadly poisonous spider on his torso and to his space suit filling with water and to scores of other potentially fatal calamities. She never felt like this after those incidents. She remembers her thoughts racing as she tried to come up with solutions, but she doesn't remember her heart racing for over an hour even after he was safe. She doesn't remember What Ifs playing over and over in her head the way they are now.

What if Hera hadn't been able to get the oxygen supply going again? What if Eiffel's laughter had petered out into silence? What if Minkowski had found him unconscious in Engineering? What if she'd fumbled for his pulse and found nothing there?

Her own pulse is quickening even more now. She forces herself to breathe slowly. She reminds herself that the crisis is over. Eiffel is fine, the same way he's been fine every other time he's nearly died, all those other times which for some reason didn't feel like this.

She wants to talk to him. More than that, she wants to see him. Which is unnecessary. She saw him 90 minutes ago when she handed him the oxygen tank. She'd watched the faint blue tinge leave his skin as he took deep breaths. She'd asked him how he was feeling. He'd said something about "his life meter filling up again" and thanked her for "the Red Potion". She'd judged from his grin - and from the fact that he was making a reference she didn't understand - that this meant he was okay.

Nonetheless, her heart is still hammering and she wants to see him. She wants to see the proof in front of her eyes that he's alive and as much himself as ever. So she makes her way to the Comms Room. She tries to seem as unflustered as possible, telling him - and herself - she just wants to check in after a busy day. He makes a couple of references and a comment about the force of her common sense. Even after all this, he's so full of life.

Standing in the doorway and looking over at him gesticulating unnecessarily, she thinks to herself 'Thank God he's still here'. Not just 'Thank God no member of my crew died today', but 'Thank God he's still here' - the former is a thought she's had a hundred times on the Hephaestus, but the latter is new. Thank God he's still here. Thank God he's here at all.

She wishes him goodnight. Her heart rate is finally returning to normal.

#w359 #Wolf 359 #Eiffel & Minkowski #I feel like some people are gonna want to read this as shippy #and I can't actually stop you #but I am in favour of platonic moments with italicised 'Oh' vibes #I probably should have given it a different title on AO3 to prevent encouraging that interpretation #but oh well #I liked that title and I like platonic heart imagery #Anyway I make myself emotional about Minkowski realising #'oh shit I really care about Eiffel as an individual - when did that happen?'#At the beginning of the series she's worried when he's in danger because #she doesn't want someone to die on her watch #but then it develops into worry about him and his wellbeing specifically #and I think that would be a different feeling #It's hard to pinpoint that shift but I think it really starts after Hilbert's mutiny #doug eiffel #Renée Minkowski #Idk if the Zelda reference works. I've never played it. But I felt like Eiffel would make some kind of video game reference there.

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blueburds · 2 years

Text

Whumptober prompt #5

No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

Herlaa didn’t give a second thought about diving after Elara, despite Aric shouts of protest. Her combat boots nearly slipped on the wet metal of the deck before she could reach the railing. She peeled off some of her heavier armor, having dropped her assault canon back by her allies, and she plunged into the blackened waters below.

It was initially difficult to tell where Elara had landed, but Herlaa spotted the stark blonde of her hair above the rolling waves. Though she struggled to swim against the currents, Herlaa eventually reached her companion and shouted after her, yet her voice had difficulty cutting through the rain and the storm. Elara coughed but spotted her captain, panic in her eyes.

“I think—I think I was shot,” Elara gasped, struggling to stay above water.

Herlaa swam around behind her, “Relax, I’ve got you,” and she hooked her arms underneath Elara’s, ushering her to let her body relax and float. Herlaa kicked and tried to keep above the waves, but the oceans of Manaan were all but merciful tonight. She could see one rising and growing in the near distance—Elara did, too—and they braced for the inevitable impact.

The waters slammed against them with a force stronger than anticipated. Herlaa’s nose and mouth filled with water and she felt her body tumbling and rolling with the wave. Elara had slipped out of her grasp.

She couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down—but she was running out of oxygen and needed to find the surface fast. She tugged off her boots and felt for them, determining which way they sunk, and she started paddling in the opposite direction.

She’d grown lightheaded—but finally, she broke the water’s surface and gasped for air. The sea wasn’t any kinder than it was just moments ago, still rolling violently as heavy rain poured.

The cargo ship that she had leapt from had turned around, its headlights illuminating the dark ocean. That could be used to her advantage. Herlaa called out for her companion, waves slapping her in the face as she treaded. From the cargo ship, Aric had begun to lower a smaller craft into the water to rescue them.

Herlaa swam to the vessel and Aric hurriedly helped her on board. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll assess the damage later. We have to find Elara.”

Herlaa could see the doubt in his face, his concern. He and Elara had never seen eye to eye, but she was as much a part of the crew as he was. But that doubtful expression turned to one of focus, his head and ears perking up intently. Herlaa whipped around to see what he was looking at and almost smacked him with her lekku.

She saw a body floating some meters away. Immediately she grabbed for the boat’s controls and sped over. Aric tried protesting when she abruptly jumped back into the water but she was already off and swimming to fetch Elara. Aric helped them both into the boat, pulling Elara’s unconscious body up first and then Herlaa.

“She’s got a pulse and she’s breathing,” Herlaa said, panting. “And look,” she gestured to her torso, “One of those Imps hit her.”

“She’ll be okay,” Aric said as reassuringly as he could—which still somehow came off as dismissive to someone who didn’t know him. “Get her on board and looked at. But—Captain, you’ve gotta start giving me warnings before you make impulsive decisions like you did.”

#whumptober2022 #no.5 #running out of air #swtor #star wars: the old republic #fic #fanfic #drowning #near drowning #thalassophobia #Trooper #Original Character #Elara Dorne #Aric Jorgan #short one todayyy

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fatefought · 1 year

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the flood of the seventieth hunger games drowning, murder, blood, death mentions, flooding, & mental exhaustion tw.

eight days and twelve cannons blaring later, annie would find herself splayed across a thick branch of a tree. turns out she was proficient at hiding. before the seventieth hunger games, she was unaware of the fact. the hours blur in the arena ; insomnia ravaged her after the gruesome death of percy leatworth. ( she scrubbed her skin raw after his own lifeblood splashed her like an afterthought. ) dehydration lingered just too shy of taking her. she wished its claws would just end her.

apart from annie, only eleven tributes remained. her splintered mind is running a list : two from one, one from three, myself, one from

in a moment’s slip, she’s airborne. gravity hurdles her fifteen, maybe twenty, feet onto shaking ground. the pain radiating from bones is momentarily forgotten as she attempts to dodge debris. it’s an earthquake ! it’s as sudden in its abrupt end. two cannons roar signifying only ten competitors left.

birds are retreating from the west, and screams rumble from that direction too. the sound of cracking magnified follows eerily. it takes a second, but annie’s face hardens with the realization of the dam breaking. she’s jumping up on her feet quickly. ( time is of the essence. ) her body is sore and tender but higher ground is required. the same greenery that projected her minutes ago might be her solace once again. up and up and up she must go, a lot steeper than before.

tawny eyes never leave the west. agatha cresta told her from a young age that you never turn your back to the waves. eyes grow wide. it’s as if the flooding defied nature. ( the technological savvy of the arena didn’t need to follow the possible.) water poured in ways she’d only overheard from drunken sailors recollecting old wives’ tales. so when it finally approaches, it’s a deep breath in before annie allows the wave to take her.

the flood consists of freshwater, unlike the bodies in district four where saltwater felt like a blessing against sun-kissed skin. though it also lacks the frigidness ( which may have meant next to nothing to the tributes who rarely have access to the sea. ) people can endure it a bit longer. and as annie comes up for air, she can finally see others. they’re not close, but the now leveled horizon made it much easier to make out seven.

another cannon goes off ! ( that leaves only one unaccounted for. ) even when the currents were strong, she felt a calmness in the water. cresta was never one to fear that. she grew up by the sea. it makes it easier to investigate the bubbles floating to surface meters away. it’s the expulsion of oxygen. unsurprisingly to her, it’s from the ninth opponent.

seaweed encases his lower body, appearing harmless. ( people assume that algae is until it’s too late. ) annie never learned his name, but she knew the scrawny sixteen year old was from district three. ( he’s just a child ! ) she’d seen him twice in the arena, most notably near the tree she shielded herself in. just yesterday, she threw a piece of kindling at him as a means of notifying the tribute of some careers drawing in. exchanging a nod, soon two perished in his trap with the others retreating. his state now was ironic.

she gracefully swims closer. the reservoir is crystal, making it impossibly easy to keep her eyes open. his dagger shines and nimble fingers remove it from his belt. annie uses her free hand to steady the aquatic plant that dances underwater and begins to cut. it should be easy ! why isn’t it ? adrenaline is pulsing in his veins. he doesn’t have much time ! ( darling mags will inform her later that they’re genetically enhanced, and that there was nothing she could do. )

drowning is a terrible way to go, and the unluckiest will have their stomachs filled before the cruel loch goes for the lungs. annie can’t leave him like this. previously the blade felt weightless, now the heft makes her want to swim to the bottom of these waters. ( i’m sorry ! ) sound does not leave her lips but bubbles do. it’s no loss, she’ll be above water soon. the shiny weapon tears through his abdomen, going downward before she unsheathed it from skin. ichor flows along the current. the pressure of the water squeezing the poor vessel. eyes shut quickly. ( her own death count goes from zero to one. )

legs kick as she propels herself towards the sun. annie meets the air with a wail. ( he’s just a child ) repeating in her mind. it isn’t fair ! tears well and drip to the unsteady pool. there’s only four other faces now. did she miss the cannons ? are those missing alive but fatally submerged ? thoughts race without an end in sight. there’s no shore ! she can’t bring anyone to safety. and even if she could, they’d still have to fight to the death.

so she continues swimming. the echoes of the others losing their bouts with water ring behind her, only accentuated by the clang that reveals another fallen tribute. ( it’s the sound of struggling that particularly chips away at her sanity. ) soon, it’s her and the final careers. they’d turned on one another. a distance away from the bloodbath, annie witnessed as the district one girl forced her body weight down on the boy. hands rung around his throat, in a twisted, senseless mix of strangulation and drowning.

the blonde sneers at her, probably tasting a combination of blood and victory. the waves are picking up again, taking the serenity out of the water once more. she allows them to spur her as she treads away quickly. ( i’ll get you, there’s nowhere to go, and you can’t swim forever are just a few of the things that left the other tribute’s mouth like a mantra. ) the taunts hold weight. valora received the highest score during training ; annie had seen the terror she caused in the arena.

as menacing as the other tribute was however, she was a subpar swimmer at best. it’s when annie looks back at her for the final time that her eyes fixate on the scene directly behind valora. and while she laughs and comments on how annie was acting like a sitting duck, soon the wave crashes over her. seconds later, annie is under too. you never turn your back to the waves.

brief panic aside, soon she’s scoping the water for the district one girl. seaweed has acted like a spiderweb twice these games. while the first victim had the flight response, valora had the fight. teeth bared and screams are stifled by the liquid around her. a blade is in her fist. ( she’s unaware of her doomed fate. ) part of annie wants to give her the same merciful release she gave the boy, but it would’ve likely led to both of them bleeding out.

cresta drifts up slowly. and once she reaches the surface, she begins to float on her back. ( for a fleeting moment, it feels like district four. ) the restlessness of the flood has subdued ; the sun gleams in the sky. her features scrunch until she can’t hold the tears back anymore. some cluelessly ask her in the months following if that was her relief at victorship. her consciousness is solely focused on percy ... valora ... the young district three boy ... the others who drowned. their deaths were ones where she just stood by, incapable of saving them ; she traded their lives for her own.

how could anyone expect annie to celebrate after hearing the announcement ? “ ladies and gentlemen, i am pleased to present the victor of the seventieth hunger games, annie cresta of district four ! ”

#why focus on my intros when i can do a drabble instead?#* drabble / annie .#drowning tw #murder tw #death mention tw #flooding tw #mental exhaustion tw

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koopzilla · 11 months

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"He-...he wouldn't! Not after everything we went through-...all that effort - for a quick fix? No, it's not true!" Snarling as if doing so will make it fact, but his breath catches in his throat as the lack of oxygen slowly brings him down while the charge meter rises. His teeth grit around a pain growing in his core along with the coconut's biting power that pulsed the idea by him again in question , though slightly rephrased to 'we don't belong anywhere...do we?'

All the time spent showing the Koopa he didn't need an oath or an obedience spell, or to stay chained to a land he did not recognize to have his back - shell on or off. All of that meant nothing...and he should have heeded the tyrant's lesson all along that if you trusted no one, then no one could hurt you.

"I wish ...he'd feel this." It was one bitter request made to the coconut's growing miserable charge, but like the pain of having his arm out of placed and forced back in - he couldn't weather the storm of it alone.

"We don't belong anywhere... do we?" The whisper repeats again and again. Its tone mutates, becoming lighter, overtaken by curiosity. It is consumed by an empty wasteland, one which even the sun refused to visit. Its sole audience is the deceased: koopas burned away by an aimless flow of lava.

The Koopa Prince sighed, gaze crawling up the riverbend. The Yoshies had destroyed their towers. Those cute little dinosaurs had beaten him down to bruises and bandages. Kamek promised him safety in these fiery depths. He called this place... the Darklands. It had also brought a loneliness like the child had never known...

Why had those dinosaurs fought them? Bowser had only done what Kamek told him to do. Why did everyone fight them?

"They fear power, Your Fierceness. They will never accept you."

The prince scowled, kicking a pebble into the lava. If they won't accept him, he won't accept them either! "Then... I'll CRUSH them..."

The king wears the same scowl, nails pressed to his heart. The memory had struck him so suddenly; he had frozen in his tracks. It is a bitter recollection, a moment where he had felt entirely abandoned. It is fuel to his engines every day: the assurance that if he does make a kingdom for himself, then no one will have him.

Yet, someone had come for him. Bowser claws a scrape over his barren wrist. In a desperate brawl, he might have lost it all... if not for the sacrificial exchange of one fluffy prince, he may have died. Donkey had given himself away to assure the safety of Bowser's son. And with that assurance, the Koopa King had been granted an opening to break loose and win the day. In the end, someone outside of his command had shown up without demand, nor request.

His eyes trail away from the battlefield, towards swamplands buried deep in the Jungle Kingdom. It felt like the right direction to look. Kamek frantically assures Junior's safety. Soldiers stand ready on all sides, just in case an angry black ape elect to attempt rising against them. The battle is won.

But for Bowser, it is not over. A pang in his chest pulls him towards the woods, away from his soldiers.

The army stares in question, but dares not speak. His memory twists. It is no longer a young koopa prince staring sorely into the fiery bends... but a small kong with a filthy little hair curl. The fluffy prince stares into a dimming sky. And the words repeat again.

"We don't belong anywhere... do we?"

Except an answer comes this time. Grouchy, demanding, and distant...

"You belong with me."

#simiansmoke

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sehaaonline · 9 hours

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santamedicalusa · 1 month

Video

Pulse Oximeter | Pulse Rate | finger oxygen monitor | blood oxygen meter...

#youtube

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apotekazzahra24jam · 5 months

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takeeachdayonebookatatime · 6 months

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Why did you elbow me? 162

Achilles Castle part 64

Lemonade and lies PART 7

Ayanna: pov before Lanie gives Kate her meds she grabs her stethoscope, she lifts up Kate's shirt a little so she can listen to her heart and lungs that is when I notice her huge scar on her side. Lanie says it doesn't sound like a collapsed lung yet. She breathed whatever was in that room. Esposito warns me this is going to be awful. He is holding Kate so Lanie can give her the medicine. Lanie pulls out this injector-like thing and says this is going to be painful. It burns going in. As soon as the injector is in and Lanie pushes the button Kate starts to cry in pain. Esposito is rubbing her back hoping it will calm her down.

Kate: pov my chest just hurts so much and it's hard to breathe and I keep coughing, and I don't feel good. I'm just so tired.

Elliot: pov Kate is sitting in Esposito's lap, while he is holding her so Lanie can monitor her. I jokingly say I wonder what the other guy looks like. Esposito says come again, I say the scar the guy must have been big and strong to get the upper hand on her like that. Ryan says she was shot in her left chest. It's a scar from her emergency heart surgery. After a few seconds the medics arrive I apologize for what I said just now and before I didn't know. The medic immediately switches her oxygen mask to one where they pump the air in to help her breathe.

Liv: pov the medicine seems to be helping Kate. Her heart rate is horrible but doing better at the moment. Ryan mentions he left a message for Castle telling him what is going on with Kate. Lanie is telling the medics Kate's medical history. Navy the male medic is asking if Kate has had any other issues with her heart they should know about. Because dispatch told them she is having chest pain, and is a shooting, TCA, PTSD, heart surgery and trauma survivor and she also has vt. Lanie says yes she has arrhythmia ventricular tachycardia to be exact. Navy the male medic asks how long she has had it Lanie says a few years. He asks if anything caused it Lanie says Kate was shot on the left side of her chest during her Captain's funeral.

Navy male medic: pov okay so her arrhythmia was caused by her shooting.

Lanie: pov yes the trauma caused her to flat line in the ambulance resulting in them having to use a defibrillator on her. I performed CPR on her the whole way to the trauma room. The bullet nicked her left inferior pulmonary vein causing Tension pneumothorax on her left side and bleeding in her chest requiring a chest tube. The cardiac surgeon did an emergency thoracotomy on her, to gain access to her heart. The Bullet also grazed her left ventricle causing Kate to bleed into her pericardium causing it to compress her heart causing a cardiac tampon. The trauma Caused her pericardium to distend since she was bleeding into it.The cardiac surgeon had to cut some of her pericardial sac to drain the blood, the trauma resulted in vfib causing her to go into cardiac arrest They had to use the internal paddles and do manual heart massages on her.

Elliot: pov I now feel so bad for getting angry at Kate before I had no idea she has heart issues.

Mary female medic: pov we were advised that she was given heart meds and has a cold. Lanie says she did give them to her. Her vitals are not good at all. I insert an IV and put a pulse ox-meter on her finger. I then put the wires to the heart monitor on her. I then take her blood pressure.

Jet: pov Lanie tells the medics Kate is in big trouble for continuing with the case even though she has a cold. The medics are concerned with how much Kate's chest hurts and her coughing and possibly breathing in whatever was in that room. Kate is starting to go unconscious and the medics are trying to keep her awake. I hear Mary say "can you stay awake?" That's it, Lanie is talking to Kate trying to keep her awake. The male medic Navy is Shining a light in Kate's eyes which seems to make her more afraid and anxious. They are making sure she doesn't have a concussion.

Muncy: pov Lanie mentions when Kate got shot a Dr would have had to shine a light in Kate eyes to check her neurological function since she went into cardiac arrest and with her having PTSD it's probably triggering her right now. Which isn't great since her PTSD doesn't mix with her heart condition.

Fin: pov with her having a previously collapsed lung on the left side they are being cautious. They put her back on the regular oxygen. Lanie is going to ride with them to the hospital, she will update us later. Olivia, Muncy and Ayanna are also going to be checked out by the medics because they were in the same room and probably were exposed to the same thing.

Navy the male medic: pov me and Mary are in the back of the ambulance with Lanie Kate Is in a lot of pain. Lanie decided to call Castle on the phone and have him talk to her in hopes it will keep her more alert. I tell her you're doing great, can you squeeze Lanie's hand for me. Good job, I know you are in pain but I can't give you any meds because it will suppress your breathing. Lanie is brushing Kate's hair out of her face.

Martha: pov Richard your phone is ringing again it's Lanie this time. I will answer it, hello Lanie how nice of you to call.

Lanie: pov actually I'm calling about Kate I'm in an ambulance with her right now. To be continued. …..

#castle #caskett #katebeckett #stanakatic #richardcastle #nathanfillion #seamusdever #kevinryan #jonhuertas #javieresposito #oliviabenson #mariskahargitay #icet #odafintutuola #Lanieparish #tamalajones #elliotstabler #lawandordersvu #law and order organized crime

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