#but they're so patient with each other

[chiyana]

this is the stupidest crossover possible but I want Tim to make House his doctor

yes that House

why? He needs someone who is very good, will not give up or send Tim out to a different specialist just because his medical condition is difficult, will not be overly concerned about the danger Tim puts himself in, and will lie on Tim's medical records AND to Batman/Bruce Wayne/all of the Bats without hesitation or fear.

House is and will do all of those things without hesitation. He has no shame, no boundaries, he WILL get into a public fight with Bruce Wayne if it means keeping that man out of his patient's (and House's) business. He will help Tim lie to and gaslight the rest of his family without hesitation.

in exchange, Tim is his favorite patient. Not because they get along, necessarily, Tim is a know-it-all little shit and they constantly bicker and House hates how practically every facet of Tim's existence is a lie (and Tim thinks House is a smug know-it-all jackass who is needlessly cruel and callous bc he thinks the world owes him and never delivers just bc he's in pain, news flash a lot of people are in pain and manage not to be assholes) BUT, 1, Tim brings him really interesting cases and problems, and 2, Tim NEVER lies to House about his medical conditions or what he was doing when they happened.

He lies about literally almost everything else under the sun TO everyone else, but he is 100% completely upfront and honest about his medical history and what is going on with him with House.

admittedly it takes a while for House to realize Tim ISN'T lying to him because some of the shit he says is completely insane ("the vigilante thing is pretty obvious but what do you MEAN you got the Apocalypse virus TWICE, AND SURVIVED, AS A FOURTEEN-FIFTEEN YEAR OLD")

but once he realizes Tim doesn't ever lie to him, he becomes House's favorite patient because at least TIM gives him all of the data he needs as best he's able the moment he asks. At least House doesn't have to waste his time following up on bogus information or figuring out the truth, he can just get right into the meat of the medical issue at hand.

also it's so fun to lie directly to Batman's face, know the man knows, and know he can't do anything about it

[crabussy]

IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING KIND TODAY!!! IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING GENEROUS TOWARDS OTHER PEOPLE!!! IS ANYBODY ELSE BEING KIND AND TRYING TO UNDERSTAND EVEN WHEN ITS HARD!!! IS ANYONE ELSE ASSUMING THE BEST OF OTHERS INTENTIONS AND RESPONDING IN KIND!!!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) wilson in pre-rut and still working but it being more and more obvious to the ducklings (who are not in tune with his cycle like that freak house is, thanks) because he starts following house around more than usual, sometimes even getting physically closer to him when it's not necessary (and house lets him most of the time too. not all the time though. if he gets especially annoyed he'll snip at him and wilson backs off with his head ducked which is..... atypical pre-rut alpha behavior but also their friendship is atypical so whatever)

it's so bad sometimes they even catch wilson smiling while he pretends not to notice while house steals his wallet so he can empty out the vending machine for his favorite snacks. later when they're alone in house's office, house pulls out a couple bags of wilson's favorites he got while he was raiding the machine and tosses them over. the look on wilson's face is so dopey that house can't help but snicker and tell him to put in his notice of leave for his cycle soon because he is really swimming in it now

[roguemonsterfucker]

Hey y'all

compliment people more

it really does wonders

I complimented my nurse today's hair and she was thrilled (she had really pretty dyed pink and yellow and orange hair that she said was partially an accident but it looked STUNNING)

plus she'd had a really bad day because a patient had yelled at her for something that wasn't her fault so I made sure to let her know she was doing great and it really seemed to help her feel better.

Just. Please. Find opportunities to compliment people.

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

what's so interesting about the Forehead Touch(tm), is how vastly different people's interpretations of it are.

some people saying it was strictly platonic/familial, given the start of furiosa and jack's relationship and how furiosa has only given and received the forehead touch from others who were her family, like her mother or women from the many mothers. but when I first saw it, I explicitly saw it as romantic.

this is not to say that you have to read their dynamic like that, that's not it. the great thing about them, was that Romance was not directly shoved in there and you could read it however you wanted to, like furiosa and max. to some, the forehead touch was an outright showing of a familial bond, but to me, it was the showings of a romantic love.

maybe it was because when I started reading early reviews of the movie ppl mentioned jack as the romantic interest, so I already had him placed in that column by the time I saw the movie. but honestly, when I first watched the trailer before seeing anything else, when I saw that split second embrace of the two of them - my first thought was 'oh he's going to be a love interest.'

and it was because of the forehead touch!

that moment of connection, even in a millisecond during a trailer, just bled something more to me bc having seen fury road, I knew how important the Forehead Touch was for furiosa. that this had to be someone deeply important, someone she holds dear, and, I dunno, even though that could still be familial, it totally rang romance to me. and I think another part of it, was because she didn't share that with max.

her and max grow close as they fight together, and at the end there's that really kind, tender scene where he's cradling her head as she lays back from her injuries. it showcased a very intimate moment, but not once did it read romantic to me. and, again, furiosa never does the forehead touch with him, something very sacred to her - so when I saw her extending that embrace to a different man in this trailer, I immediately knew Something Was Up.

I don't really have a conclusion - it's just interesting! some people cement their relationship as platonic bc furiosa only did the forehead touch with family members, whereas others see it as romantic bc she gave that gesture over to jack. so many interpretations!

and this is to say, all of them are valid! if you believe they're platonic, great! if you believe it's romantic, yay! their dynamic was, I believe, explicitly non-specific, so the audience could take it as they want, and so we could simply just focus on this sacred bond of trust between two people, and how important it was to furiosa during her story.

just don't shit on other ppl's interpretation 👍

[coldshrugs]

see you in the morning

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 2k note: endwalker spoilers. io is not handling things well :') you'll never guess who goes to comfort her :o)

Old Sharlayan holds its breath.

Most nights, the chilly island city continues its quiet bustling straight through to morning. Scholars drift from early-evening lectures to late-night research clubs or public laboratories, babbling excitedly about the latest research, innovation, or gossip. Those with less rigid schedules wander to the nearest patch of grass or unused table at the Last Stand with a pile of books in tow. Structured or lax, their perpetual search for knowledge is the very heartbeat of the city. But tonight, the pulse has all but stopped.

The lack of bubbling chatter and foot traffic casts an eerie pall over the city. It reaches all the way down to Scholars’ Harbour, where Io sits alone, on one of the long stone piers reaching out into the sea.

Thousands of people huddle in their homes with friends and loved ones as they wait for daylight, and for the Ragnarok’s first–and only–flight.

The weight of their expectation is suffocating.

Waves murmur against the stone below, the only sound save the few foreign sailors on the next pier over, bound to their work regardless of the state of the world. Neither is loud enough to distract her racing mind.

Io pulls her knees to her chest, cursing the inability to become as small as she feels. Every soul on this star, whether they know it or not, is now her responsibility, an obligation that echoes back to a time beyond time. And she chose it. Before she even knew it was her burden to carry, she chose it. She chooses it, because who else would? Who else could bear it? Is it not enough that her loved ones must sacrifice so much due to proximity and circumstance? It has to be her, for she would not wish this on anyone else.

If only she could curl into herself completely. Tightly enough to blink out of existence, like a dark singularity.

She’d take everything else with her.

There’s no resolution in that line of thinking.

Somewhere out there, in the expanse, is the replication of a little girl with a very human soul–perhaps not fractured, as the souls of those on the Source and its shards, but something that was never allowed to be whole. Why wouldn’t annihilation be Meteion’s answer to dead world after dead world? It must seem like kindness to a being who has never experienced adversity. 

Tears, injury, death: Io has suffered through–and dealt–her fair share of them all. What pain has Meteion seen that Io has not lived?

Her hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palms. She feels manic, unable to rein in the oscillation between anger, guilt, and fear. There is the urge to scream, or cry, or drop into the frigid water below and swim and swim and swim.

But a figure moves at the edge of her vision, walking briskly in her direction.

Now another feeling begs to be acknowledged. Relief? Endearment? A mixture of both at being found, and by him, perhaps.

Still, against her threadbare senses, this feels like an ambush.

Estinien says nothing as he approaches. His steps slow as if trying not to scare a wounded animal. He offers an awkward smile. Io tries to mirror it, hoping he sees a shred of warmth in the tight purse of her lips.

He is handsome in this light, in his half-laced boots and untucked shirt billowing in the chilly coastal wind. The world is ending, and she can’t help noticing his beauty. It’s ludicrous.

“Who sent you?”

His short huff resembles a laugh. “I need a motive to check on you?” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “Y’shtola saw you down here from the Annex. She and Thancred thought to come, but I asked them to stay. Everyone’s turning in for the night. I thought you might appreciate the less intrusive option.”

“By all means, intrude. Once the solitude is broken, it hardly matters by whom.”

His brow knits as he studies the carved stones that make up the pier. He turns, shifting his weight. She can feel him wondering if this was unwise.

“I’m sorry, that was unkind. I’m just… overwhelmed–” Io takes a deep breath, embarrassed by the confession before she makes it– “and afraid. Please don’t go.”

Estinien sways in her periphery, stepping closer before squatting beside her. He looks out into the quiet marina, carefully avoiding her half-slumped form. False privacy, but she’ll take the small mercy.

“You needed to get away. I can understand that.”

“I couldn’t breathe in there. Everyone is watching me. They look at me like I’m dying, or like I’m killing them myself.”

“For every person placing blame at your feet, ten others believe in this asinine plan. As I do.”

“You think we can do it? Truly?” she asks, looking up into the great expanse. The stars blink against the endless blue, and for once, the sight makes her feel cold instead of curious. “What if I–”

“You have to, Io.” His tone invites no debate, but there is a melancholy that matches her own. “You will figure it out no matter the cost, because you must.”

Io nods. Her eyes sting. She closes them to keep the tears at bay as long as possible. He is right, of course. Somewhere deep in her soul, the flame of her faith–in herself, in her friends, and in those who paved this way for her–burns as brightly as ever. She has to save them.

“But you will not be alone. We are with you, of course. We’ll give our all to see it through, if that’s what it takes.”

“Gambling your lives for a promise I made, for my mistakes… I can’t bear to think about losing them.” She risks a glance in Estinien’s direction, but his eyes never leave the gently rolling sea. “Or losing you.”

The barest of smiles, one of the little ones he tries to hide with a bowed head. He rubs the back of his neck, sending a cascade of loose hair over his shoulder.

Her chest clenches.

The well of affection she holds for him is muddy these days; for years, they’ve operated with platonic, amiable ease, flitting in and out of each other’s lives but always reuniting as the closest of friends. But since her time in the First, they have been nearly inseparable.

Estinien is her family, but unlike what she feels for Thancred, Urianger, or G’raha, he is not her brother. He evokes a distinct tenderness, gives life to a long-dormant, selfish hope within her heart, and he does it without trying.

“If we don’t try, all is lost.” He falls against the stone with a quiet groan and nudges her with an elbow. “This pessimism doesn’t become you. I have seen you stand against tremendous odds time and time again. I’ve heard tales of more things than I’ve seen. You may not always get it right, I may not always agree, but you do the impossible. What makes this any different?”

Io reflects on the past year (gods, has it been that long?). The burning skies, the horrible transformations, and the aether-depleted souls who will never see another lifetime on this beautiful star, all because she fell for a madman’s power play. She condemned them to this fate. 

She reaches further into her memory, to the unsure adventurer stepping foot into the Waking Sands, and her induction into the inner circle of these secretive upstarts she’s grown to call family. She’s been nothing more than a curse upon them. Thancred’s aether, Y’shtola’s sight, Urianger’s conscience, Minfilia’s life. What might they have avoided without her?

Haurchefant would be alive if she had stayed out of his life.

Since the day she left Dalmasca, death and destruction have been her shadow. As ruinous and loyal as Dalamud, a black dog she pretends she can abandon if only it would forget her scent.

She watches Estinien again, silver in the moonlight. His hands are clasped, hanging between long legs that dangle close to the water below. Like the water, he looks relaxed on the surface. Like the water, there is an undercurrent only the experienced can see.

His thumb worries a circle into the palm of his other hand. His shoulders are tense, hidden by his slightly curved posture. If anyone could understand why this is different, it’s him. For all his courage, he has seen the black dog too.

“It’s different,” Io swallows, “because it’s everything.”

Estinien looks back. His stare is hard. “And so are you.”

Once more, he leaves no room for debate. He speaks as if stating the obvious, citing a fact she should already know.

Io blinks, so awestruck by his candor, she has to look away. Her tumultuous thoughts now spin in his direction, unable to focus on more than this sudden vulnerability. What does it mean that sharing these doubts with him is the most comfortable she’s felt in days? What does it mean that she aches to reach for his hand?

His eyes dart over her face, never lingering on one feature too long. There is something overly controlled about it. Lately, she has employed the same tactic when trying not to stare at his lips…

If she leaned over and kissed him, would he push her away? Could they still be friends?

A selfish hope indeed. But a small thing in her mind whispers, “maybe after…”

If there is an “after” to be had.

She releases her bundled limbs and stands, stretching to relieve the long-ignored ache in her back.

“Come on,” she beckons. “We should at least try to rest before we travel to the edge of space and time.”

Io’s tension deflates as they walk to the annex, pressed under the weight of her exhaustion. They go in comfortable silence, half an arm’s length apart. There is something between them she longs to touch, but doesn’t dare. She has the moonlight in his hair, his half-smile, and his steadfast faith in her. That is enough.

That is more than enough.

The Baldesion Annex is dark, like the rest of the city. The lobby is empty. Not an Annex attendant, not a Scion. Estinien does not share her surprise. How persuasive must he have been to ensure no one disturbed her return? Io watches him move across the room with deliberate steps. He holds open the door that leads to the nap rooms and gestures with his head for her to go ahead of him. The little smile is back.

She returns it, and this time it’s genuine.

They pass Estinien’s door. Io’s room is around the corner and down the next corridor, and he makes the full journey.

They pause at her door.

“Thank you for keeping my head on straight.”

“Someone must. You would not hesitate to do the same for me.” He shrugs. And then his hand is on her upper arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. He pulls her into his space.

Her arms thread under his, hands pressing into his back. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathes him in. The sharp edge of her anxiety sloughs away, lost in the steady pressure of his arms around her.

They have never hugged like this. They have never been this close.

Io closes her eyes, squeezes him more tightly, and smiles when she can feel his erratic heartbeat through the firm press of their chests. In this moment, with his hands resting at her neck and waist, with his chin against her neck, skin to skin, she cannot imagine his denial. Perhaps it isn't a stretch to assume he feels this too.

The corridor lights grow dim around them. Io pays them no mind, content to stand in the dark until morning, held by the man she yearns for, the man she never thought she would.

But she yawns, and he steps away, hands on her shoulders. Another squeeze. Another scan of her face before his grey eyes focus on hers, like he's making a final decision.

“Tomorrow,” Estinien says. The single word is a promise. Whatever happens, whatever they find, he will make sure Io gets it done.

“Tomorrow.” She nods, slipping into the room as the memory of his touch crystallizes in her mind. Her limbs are heavy as she climbs into the too-small bed, but the weight has lifted.

She can breathe.

[thus-spoke-lo]

P.S. anon who sent the ask about Shanks x reader x Mihawk, that's all I'll be thinking about for days now

[thecultoflove]

shrignold doesnt like physical touch (as you stated) but do they at least like being intimate with warren/lucid ?

it takes them a little while to adjust to situations involving intimacy, but they don't hate the idea of physical contact with either of them. what sometimes causes them to withdraw is the trauma they've experienced within the cult despite all the teachings about "purity culture" (basically cover up COMPLETELY and wait till marriage) sometimes they show discomfort and push away, expressing feelings of being "dirty" or as if they've "made a mistake" so during these moments lucid and warren have to sit them down to make them feel a bit more safe? the two would never force anything on shrignold but they do try to help them break away from the strict and unhealthy mindset they've been trapped in.. (they also both want to burn the cult to the ground literally)

[tanjir0se]

tw: death, medical procedures

hey my job kinda like. sucks ass sometimes lol. ive been doing it for almost 5 years and sometimes it still takes the fucking breath out of my lungs man.

i'm standing toward a pt and her husband. heart monitor display is between us. i can see it fall into sawtooth tachy (pulseless) and he can't. I'm literally watching the big flashing 0 for her heart rate. the ICU nurse came running in and that made him catch on and he's asking us "what? what is it!? what's happening!?" and i'm not an ICU nurse so i'm just fucking standiing there and staring at the monitor with my mouth open like an idiot (she was DNR, there's nothing we could have done) while the primary nurse approaches the bed and tells him what's happening

I kind of like. back out of the room bc i can no longer do my job on someone who is. yknow. not alive. And i'm not about to dismantle all my equipment with all of this happening, so my part of the job is done.

He begins crying (obviously) which was bad enough but as I circled back around to start charting a quick note i passed the room andhe's. Lying in her bed holding her and just. fucking. wailing. Like screaming. So fucking loud and just this awful sound. It was so bad, like nothing i've ever seen before. I could hear him from my equipment room like five doors down with the door shut. It was so awful I just finished my work ran out of the ICU and to my car.

For the first time since I've been a nurse (I was a nurse all through COVID and saw plenty of shit then too) I just. Closed my car door and fucking cried. I cried all the way home. Like fucking sobbed. i've never cried over a pt and i've had plenty of moments similar to this. I don't even remember the pts name and never learned her husbands. i've literally done compressions on someone and felt their ribs snap, i've had to tell family their loved one has died, had people tell me they didn't want to die, watched COVID take really young people but this just. it just. fuck. got me for some reason.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Giving Report with the Healthcare Boys (LU in Healthcare snippets)

What patient handoff and/or shift change looks like for some of the boys!

Wild stretched as he entered the staff lounge and caught sight of a coworker getting on shift. His feet were sore and he had a headache, but overall he felt pretty good despite the chaotic day.

"How was today?" his coworker asked.

Wild shrugged. "Busy."

His coworker smirked. "Well at least you're actually mostly in uniform today."

Wild looked down at his black scrub bottoms (that he absolutely didn't steal from Twilight), light blue polo, and sleeveless black jacket. "Yeah, I guess so."

"What kind of adventures did you have today?"

Wild laughed. "Only one, thanks. We eventually found MRI."

"How long did it take for you and your patient to find MRI?"

"Um," Wild shifted awkwardly. "Maybe twenty minutes? Didn't mess up her appointment, so it was fine. Besides, she got to see the ambulance bay and a friend of mine showed her the back of the ambulance, which she thought was really cool."

"That sounds like way more than twenty minutes!" his coworker laughed.

"We had fun and got there eventually," Wild shrugged as he crossed his arms. "That's all that matters."

When his coworker continued to guffaw at the entire situation, Wild rolled his eyes exasperatedly and clocked out. He was ready to have some of the dinner that he'd made for himself yesterday, and he was excited to get home and relax.

XXX

"I just fueled her up, she should be set to fly for you tonight," Sky said as he pat his hand against the helicopter with a warm smile. "The only thing I can think of is that you need to watch the cyclic; it's a little jerky if you adjust it too fast. I was going to see if maybe I could look it over but we kept getting calls."

Belari nodded. "Got it! I'll take a look at it with the shift checks. Sorry you were flying all night, though."

Sky shrugged. "It wasn't too terrible. But I'm definitely ready to go to bed."

Belari laughed at that. "Sky, you're always ready to go to bed."

XXX

Twilight grabbed a clipboard and his finger slid down across different names of patients. "So these two are the ones who have been the biggest ones to look out for. Airway issues for this kid, and the parents aren't in there, so just keep an ear out, especially if her nurse is busy. The other is on seizure precautions, everything's set up but he's already had one seizure today."

The tech he was handing off to sighed. "Poor kid. I thought they'd gotten that under control."

"Yeah, we all thought that," Twilight remarked sadly before continuing with his report. "This one here is a standby with one assist, usually uses a bedside commode for toileting. This one in room 12 needs a sitter, you might get stuck there a bit. He's not really bad, just developmentally delayed and likes to throw things. He's nonverbal, but he understands more than you think, so just redirect him. Loves to listen to Barney, so I've literally just been playing it on repeat all day. Kept him pretty preoccupied. Rooms 1, 3, 4, and 5 are night baths. The 24 hour QCs have been done, I think you'll just have to do the EKG machines."

"Is the lift still broken?" his coworker asked with dread.

Twilight grimaced. "Uh, yeah. But the only one you'd need it for is room 8, and she's pretty light."

His coworker crossed her arms. "Yeah, light to you, Mr. I-Can-Bench-Press-the-Planet."

Twilight couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, and then he spluttered to try and compensate when she waved him off.

"Get out of here, Twi," she said exasperatedly. "It's gonna be a long night and you don't need to be here for it."

XXX

Wind settled beside his preceptor as the night shift respiratory therapist pulled up a chair. He shifted nervously, knowing that Daphnes had said he would be giving report for one of the patients; this was Wind's first time even attempting to give report.

"All right, go for it," his preceptor's relief said, ready for report.

Wind swallowed and nodded. "Okay, so room 12 is a 54-year-old female, post-op day 1 for a CABGx3. She's still intubated because they can't get a good neuro on her, I think? Like for us she's been fine, breathing spontaneously on the vent, but they're afraid she can't protect her airway if we extubate."

Daphnes held out a small piece of paper to Wind, who jumped, realizing what he'd forgotten. "Oh! Right, her last gas looked good, but her lactate was high so that's another issue she's got going on. She's got a 7.5 ETT, 23 at the lips, cuff's fully inflated and intact. She's on 30% FiO2, PEEP of 8, pressure support."

"Tolerating the vent? Suctioning, any secretions you're getting out?"

Wind's heart skipped another beat as he felt like he was messing everything up. "She's tolerating it, yeah. Hasn't really bucked it all. Because, you know, no neuro and the like. She isn't following commands or anything. They're not sure what's wrong. She doesn't have a lot of secretions, last time I went in she was good. Lung sounds are clear, a little diminished in the bases."

The respiratory therapist finished scribbling notes and then nodded. "Okay, sounds good."

Wind leaned back heavily in his seat as his preceptor gave report on the other two patients they'd been caring for. When he was finished, Daphnes put a hand on Wind's shoulder.

"Good job on report," he said with a smile.

Wind watched him uncertainly. "I thought it sucked."

Daphnes laughed. "It's your first report. You went over the broad strokes. You'll get there, Wind. Good work today."

Smiling, Wind perked up and nodded. "Thanks."

XXX

Hyrule tried not to feel overwhelmed when he brought the stretcher into the large room filled with people waiting for him. He could do his job and take care of the patient, but giving report always made him nervous.

He caught sight of Legend in the corner, who gave him a smile and a nod.

Taking a deep breath, Hyrule stood beside the stretcher alongside a tech while Mo and another nurse moved to the other side of the hospital bed where they'd lined up with the stretcher, grabbing the sheet under the patient.

On three, the four slid the patient from the stretcher to the bed, and people swarmed around her as Hyrule stepped back.

"71-year-old female, stroke alert, last known normal was two hours ago at 1945," Hyrule started loudly so both Legend and the physician could hear him as they worked. "She's got right sided facial droop and arm weakness, as well as aphasia. No neglect or vision changes to my knowledge. She hasn't changed for us over transport, she's just been like this since we got on scene. She can follow commands, can't really say anything but she'll track your movement. Vitals have been stable throughout transport, glucose was 112. I've got bilateral 18s in both ACs, one's saline locked and the other's KVO. Sinus rhythm on the monitor. History of TIA and hypertension. Any questions?"

"Does she have family coming?" Legend asked as he labeled blood samples pulled from one of her IVs.

Hyrule nodded. "Daughter's on her way."

The charge nurse walked in. "CT 3 is ready for you guys."

Legend nodded. "Thanks, Roolie. We'll see you later."

With that, Hyrule stepped out of the room as Legend and a few others guided the patient's bed out of the room and headed off to get a head CT. He blew out a deep breath of relief and made his way to his partner, who was cleaning the stretcher.

"Well that was exciting," Mo commented.

Hyrule had to laugh. "Yeah, no kidding. Maybe we can sleep the rest of the night."

"You really think so?"

"...No."

"Me neither."

XXX

"Well you took your sweet time," Legend grumbled as Warriors plopped into a seat beside him.

"I can't help that morning huddle took an eternity," Warrior fired back, rolling his eyes. "I'm not charge today, and the one who is just stood there for like a solid five minutes figuring out where everyone should go. So what do you have for me?"

"In the twenty years it took you to get here, I discharged one of the patients," Legend explained, getting a good-natured chuckle out of his friend. He pulled up the other patients' charts. "You only have two to worry about. Room 28 is a 24-year-old female, A/Ox4, stable, she's here for generalized body aches, they're doing a flu workup for her so she's on droplet precautions. She's been stable, no known medical history, she's fine in there. I took care of all the orders for her, we're literally just waiting for results."

Warriors nodded, reviewing the chart briefly before Legend moved on to the next patient. "Okay, this other one is the issue. Roolie brought him in about an hour ago, respiratory distress CHF patient, was on CPAP with Roolie and then we intubated him here; he's on propofol for the sedation. He's gotten 60 of IV Lasix and 2 inches of nitro paste, got a Foley in and it's put out like 150 so far, so mostly responsive to the Lasix. But they did an echo on him and his EF is absolute garbage, so even though we're getting fluid off it isn't doing much. They're talking about putting him on a milrinone drip, I've got the tubing and stuff ready if they decide to do it. Big surprise, he's been consistently hypertensive for me, started out at 220/136 now his systolics are lingering in the 160s. He was tachycardic and I think the nitro didn't do him any favors for that, but the good thing about milrinone is that you got reflex bradycardia with it, so hurray."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Warriors grumbled, "You always manage to bring me such great patients, don't you?"

"Hey, I got rid of a stroke patient earlier, you should thank your lucky stars," Legend retorted. "Stroke alerted her and she went straight to surgery. These two are all you got. They're working on getting this one up to the ICU as soon as possible. You've got an 18 in the left AC and a 20 in the right upper arm. Your propofol is going at 30 in the AC. The tube is a 7.0 and it's 21 at the lips. They're alive. End of story."

"Well, that's all that matters, anyway," Warriors muttered, perusing the patient's chart before glancing at his friend. "You okay?"

Legend huffed. "Am I okay? Yeah, sure, we got our asses kicked last night. But it's over. Just going to stay a bit to catch up on charting and then I'm getting the hell out of this nightmare."

"Charting," Warriors said with as much disgust as he could muster. "I hate charting."

"You and me both. Good luck, Wars."

XXX

In the ICU it was typical to have only one to two patients. On a day like this, where staffing was short, however, it was surprising and rarely a good sign when one was lucky enough to be singled with a patient.

It usually meant the patient was a mess.

Four sighed as he grabbed his report sheet and his multicolored pens and sat down beside the nurse who he would be receiving report from. After pulling up the patient's chart, he gave his coworker an affirmative nod that he was ready.

"This is a John Doe, just got up to the unit at 1545 from the OR. He is approximately somewhere in his 30s. Involved in a motor vehicle crash, vehicle versus a tractor. He got extricated and flown here. He was awake and lethargic on scene, apparently, got RSI'd in the field when he couldn't really protect his airway from bleeding with facial trauma. Got 2 units of RBCs in the air, another in the ED, and another in the OR. CT showed right femur fracture, skull fracture with intracranial hemorrhage, multiple facial fractures, rib fractures, and cardiac contusion with tamponade. They placed a bolt in the OR, he v-fib arrested and they shocked him twice. We've given 1L crystalloid for more fluid resuscitation and 1 unit FFP. He's kind of vasoplegic but not by much, still he's on epi at 3 and Levo at 5. Still getting a fluid bolus right now. Ready for systems?"

Four scribbled feverishly, and then he paused. "Wait, who was the surgeon?"

"Time."

Four smiled. Good. That meant the team would be keeping a close eye on the situation. "Okay, I'm ready for systems."

"Neuro, he's a RASS -3 with a goal of -4. He's no longer paralyzed, it was reversed at 1600. He's got the bolt, it's subarachnoid. His ICP has been steady in the..."

The longer the nurse talked, the more Four realized this was going to be a long shift. But he'd get through it. They went through neurological, respiratory, cardiac, gastrointestinal, genioturinary, musculoskeletal, and skin individually before reviewing lab work, and then Four wrote down what points of access he had, including a central line, an arterial line, and three peripheral lines, as well as all the different medications going in through them. After finishing handoff with the other nurse, Four sat in his chair for a moment and just took a deep breath.

Time to get to work.

[lynpheas]

dunno if anyone has or would catch onto this, but in my fic “all the petals fall,” i lowkey based helia’s reaction to flora using witch magic on a wangxian dynamic !! hehe… oh to transcend the rigidity of your moral scruples through an inciting incident by someone you deeply love… romance.

examples under the cut:

“One against two, Lan WangJi still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei WuXian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.” Wei WuXian, “I can pay.” Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well.” Wei WuXian, “Damage or not, how much damage, I know it the most. As for my heart, it’s my heart after all. I know what I’m doing.” Lan WangJi, “Some things you cannot be able to control at all.” Displeasure flashed across Wei WuXian’s face, “Of course I can control it.” Lan WangJi walked a step closer. He seemed to be about to speak again when Wei WuXian closed his eyes, “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” Lan WangJi paused. He had suddenly been angered, “… Wei WuXian!”

excerpt from

grandmaster of demonic cultivation 魔道祖师

mo xiang tong xiu | translation from exiled rebels scanlations

“Lifeblood is dark, Flora,” Helia insists. “You saw how you were out there. You were bloodthirsty. It controlled you.” “I never lost sight of myself,” Flora argues. “I swear to you, I never did. If I had, those wizards would be dead right now. I would’ve ripped their arteries from their bodies and taken their hearts as spoils of war. But I didn’t because I was only using my power to save my friends. My friends and you, Helia, the man I love!” “Do you even hear yourself right now, Flora?” Helia says, bewildered. “All this talk of blood and murder — I never thought you to be capable of such morbid affairs!” He pauses, “No, wait, I did. You and the Winx are strong, you’d be able to do anything for the sake of the universe. I just never thought I’d see you take such joy in it.” “Lifeblood is life, Helia,” Flora says, exasperated. “Dark and light are not as diametrically opposed as you think. They’re codependent. One would not exist without the other. In the end, they’re both morally neutral — what matters is the wielder’s choices.” “Morally neutral by whose standards?” Helia queries, resigned. “Mine? Or yours?”

excerpt from

all the petals fall (of the flowers that bloomed in my heart)

lynpheas | ao3

[lilac-melody]

Why must some of my favorite ship tags be filled with hatred when I just wanna vibe...

[bluesunsdusk]

--// Imagining Najma saying "I don't date humans anymore." gives me real "I'm done with men 💅" energy. ))

[purposefully-lost]

Thinking about how Will and Emile both have a tendency to get quiet and closed off when they're feeling bad or guilty,,, but how they both keep physically reaching out just to have the hand to hold,,,,

[dirtytransmasc]

the men and boys are innocent too.

we cry "the innocent women and children" to appeal to the masses, to try and force their sympathy, but the men and boys are innocent too.

I have seen sons crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their siblings. I have seen them break down at the loss of their families. I have seen them cling to their dead and grieve.

I have seen fathers cradle their dead children, seen them kiss their faces and hold their little hands. I have seen them faint with grief when asked to identify the dead. I have seen them carry their sons and daughters. I have seen them fasting to provide what little they can for their families.

I have seen men and boys digging through the rubble with just their bare hands, I have seen them comforting strangers, playing with children, rocking them, hushing them, even if the face of such imminent danger. I have seen them cry, seen them grieve, seen them break down into each other's arms, seen them be selfless, beyond selfless, becoming something I don't have a word for.

I have seen the men who are doctors refuse to leave their patients, even when they have no medicine or supplies to give them, even when they're threatened with bombings. I have seen fathers who have lost all their children pick orphans up into their arms and proclaim them their child so they are not alone. I have seen men and boys digging pets out of the rubble.

the men are innocent too. the men and boys are being hurt and killed too. the men and boys are grieving too. the men and boys are scared too. the men and boys are fighting to save their people too. the men and boys deserve to be fought for too.

[fukashiin]

attractive things they do #2 !

— w. housewardens

⤷ "yuutapdatass tweeted: malleus pls stop dming me to rub our feet together as a nightly custom"

cw: hinted suggestive content for malleus, vil and leona. passive reader! enjoy ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

shushing others so you can focus.

pens and textbooks alike cluster along your designated study table, accompanied by the riddle rosehearts as his knee brushes against yours wordlessly. he's utilising this free period, toiling out and about to aid you in your, regretfully, pointless revision. finals season starts to get rigid around this time, so he's more than content to lend a hand if you're willing to put in the effort. except—the students abounded at the table diagonal to yours start getting chattier than what's socially allowed in the library, so riddle calls them out without a pain. one "they're trying to focus." and their mouths are zipped. he turns back to you, unperturbed, and smiles. "shall we continue?"

SO patient with you it makes you cry.

riddle may be a bomb of ire waiting to burst at any given moment, but you believe that his patience shouldn't go uncredited. a tireless awardee, a distinguished laureate, going sleepy in your eyes, although he's wrestling to win over the urge just so you can get the hand of the concept he's cramming into your head last-minute. the scent of white petunias could really alleviate his fatigue, and you make a promise to bring over a few of those in favour for his devoutness to your study sessions. for the time being, he'll make sure you pass, for him, and for yourself.

vows that he'll outdo your stupid ex in every way.

whatever your ex did wrong, riddle will do better. that's just in his nature. he swears with each and every fibre of his body, nuzzling his head in the dip of your shoulder, that he'll love you in ways that your morose ex never bothered to think about. a muttered pledge that couldn't compare to the pious burn that lit in his eyes, like a withstanding candle refusing to go out. his confessions are firm, where he'll be the betterment that you wished for on an astral night, so please, don't put him in your doubt.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

pressing you against the nearest wall he spots to kiss you.

there are numerous attributes to this man that renders you hopelessly drunk in love. one of them is his maddening habit of pressing you flushed against the nearest surface in his sight, and the most poorly lit areas when you're in stranded in a public space to guise the both of you. he executes this with the softest hint of care, ensuring that the landing wasn't too harsh, and advancing when given the green light. wispy strands of hair stroke your skin like a feather, as fine lips come crashing down to yours in a heartbeat, in paradise. he gives you a sheer once-over, bringing up the following statement: "grab onto my vest if you need to."

breathes the confidence into you.

downgrading oneself may be in his dictionary, but it won't appear in yours. he'll clasp any opportunity to brandish his infamous eye-roll to those whose comments about you stray a bit too loud. you may be a bit thrown off by the audacity and aimlessly think about the ways of which you could live up to his—your standards. you take a bit to reorient yourself when you hear your name being called out, sluggish hands circling your waist, as you're unable to finish your thought about how beautiful he is until he asks whether you're actually sparing a single thought for those nobodies. he casually states that you're leagues better than them, whether you think so or not, and won't mind giving you a physical demonstration if you can't bring yourself to accept it yet, because he knows it.

just knows what you want without you having to tell him.

eyeing an accoutrement that could accent your main outfit? longing for a new stand-alone book after the last one you buried yourself in was a letdown? leona has the prices covered. despite your incessant denial, that you don't actually need those, he tells you that a little spending wouldn't hurt. he doesn't need verbal expression to know what'll satisfy you, the flit of your gaze is the only opening he requires. you're embarrassed by how easily you're read, but the hearty smile that blooms on your face will be all the excuses leona needs to keep spoiling you.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

drapes his coat over your legs if you're cold.

sometimes, you swear that he has the whole "affection capability" of a wooden plank. his actions aren't entirely faultless, nor was there not a single second of err in the delivery of his speeches, but he does haul around that handy coat solely for moments like these. perched wordlessly on top of mostro lounge's signature high stools, azul rebukes your rash behaviour after spurting out in the rain without an umbrella, clothes weatherworn and all—not to mention the lounge's benevolent addition of its AC. the chills rack your body from head to toe, not noticing that a fuzzy warmth starts to blanket your legs, as azul pats it down creaseless. he says that you can pay him in return at a later date, your declining health is his utmost priority at the moment.

sets you straight when you need it.

his prized coin collection seems to blur boorishly, bleeding into the soft jazz playing in the back. the thirsting need to word-vomit all over the place, thanks to the hours of ennui you've been experiencing ever since you've trudged yourself back to azul's room, threatens to tip over the edge. he notes your irresolute responses to his (nearly) bombarding questions while he's planted over at his desk, and takes the initiative to make you open up to him. he wants you to look at him, commit his words to memory, as he caresses your shoulder under the twinkling lavender glow of his night lamp with a sure look in his eyes, guaranteeing that you're going to do fine.

has a secret album dedicated to pictures of you in his gallery.

azul tries to get accustomed to the revolutionising tricks of technology just for you. fine, if he has to pass through every single hyperlink and learn unfamiliar terms, that's on him. other than owning a booming magicam account promoting #mostrolounge, he saves a single, peculiar file in his gallery that hoards all the pictures he's taken of you when you're together, on a date or not. he can't tell if your lovely visage is the sole cause to the rapid change of pace in his heart when he's dealing with a mounting workload, but if you ever drag yourself down after taking a quick glance at them, he'll bring you right back up.

KALIM-AL-ASIM

clears the hair out of your face when its windy.

you may be a tad bit hesitant to ride the magic carpet every once in a while, but kalim's sparkling serendipity puts your heart at ease. he takes you for a midnight rendezvous, golden embroidery flashing and sheening at every twist and turn you direct with the tassels with aplomb—as he compliments. his headpieces jangle merrily like a thousand bells in the breeze, up until he notices your sight being blocked by the troublesome hair whirling all over the place. chuckle as he may, he shifts it to the side of your face with a deft hand, tracing the last strands down to your chin. "there. seeing better now?"

interlaces your hand with his in your sleep. (the physical touch GOAT)

wrinkled bedsheets rustle under the weight of your movements, coarse, and even a bit sullen as the morning ooze of sunlight drenches through your curtains, as if it prohibits you to sleep in the entire day. kalim's newfound ailment forces the two of you to be separated indefinitely, so colour yourself surprised when you feel the taut clutch of your hand in another, holding onto the remaining pieces of you that he needily ached for all night. sun-kissed fingers wove between yours like silken ribbons, his eyes pleading for you to stay, as a minute—a moment without you in his world—would be infallible torture.

purchases a piece of the moon for you.

you know those moneyed, wealthy fans who purchase a piece of the moon for their favourite idol? kalim gets influenced, and is driven by his conviction that you deserve something more extravagant than rowdy parades or a hallowed mansion (regardless of how many he wishes to buy). he takes it upon himself to surf across Lunar Registry, registering your full name and gifting its stated amount for approximately...5000 sq ft of land of the celestial body that hung high in the sky, radiating its extraterrestrial luminance on your nights of sobriety. you chide him for such an impulsive act in return, but soften up when he states, upright, that he would gift you all the stars in space if he could.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

brings you to touch him himself.

no use if you're cowardly in the bold language of physical touch, vil will simply make you oblige into feeling him, whether its physically or through minds. oftentimes you find yourself hastily straddled on his lap, him decked in his satin-sewn pajamas, as you prod and poke his hands nervously while scrutinizing every area of skin that screamed of his unyielding years of care. there's a teasing lilt that lurks behind his voice, questioning if you're seriously taking your time trying to figure him out where you're aware that he's less than patient. he seizes your hand in his grip, and leads them to his chest—shamelessly. if he needs to remind you of who you're with every day, he'll be more than committed to reel you closer to his body.

demands full eye contact.

tsking and huffing is, an unsurprisingly normal habit for him to adapt. and this includes moments of when you're shying away from him, heaving under your tense breath about how unfairly attractive he is. slick in his latest outfit tailored specifically according to his calibrated measurements. high stilettos bests your height, and he almost seems disappointed in the lack of praise he's receiving (although he knows exactly why). you feel a manicured finger tilt your chin upwards, as your teetering praises come to an abrupt halt. he smiles, demanding you to look him in the eyes throughout every second you're worshipping him.

tells you to ready yourself before he showers you in his love.

vil wants you to experience each and every slide of his nails against your feverish skin, whispering pure promises and cherishing you, affirming that you're worth much more to him than a million grand. if you ever throw yourself below the bar lower than necessary, he waves your deplorable behaviour away, and asks if you truly believe that you're tumbling down that route of thinking when you're with him. vying arms enclose your figure like a velvet blanket, surrendering your chapped lips a centimetre away from his, as his refined scent tickles your nose until he advises you to prepare yourself to revel in his untiring devotion. all your worthwhile priorities were put on hold until further notice.

IDIA SHROUD

leaning back in his chair after finishing a game.

you arose from your sleep, previously dozing off while perusing written tales of the past propped up on idia's bed. the culprit of your awakening is off cheering in the same vicinity after speed running a round and emerging victorious, unmanned, of the latest version of a first-person shooter game he recently installed on his computer. he starts to recline in his chair as it creaks off his weight, arms slackened behind his head and his sweater gliding off of his stomach, exposing the barest bit of delicate skin that indulges you to run your hands across. he emits the heaviest of sighs while he runs a sore hand through his hair, as the disorientation of your mind starts to scatter all over the place.

"i thought it'd cost more."

Idia Shroud will not have you get scammed by lowly, needling scammers surfacing online websites like newborn piranhas. his head begins to split when you spout about the official item being too pricey and that you won't be able to milk a single penny out of your derelict dorm, so he insists that he pays for the item for you himself. you send him a link of the mentioned item, and he felt like he was dragging himself through wet cement throughout the whole mire. he remains indifferent to the price overall, and goes "oh? i thought it'd cost more." with a brazen smirk etched on his face that it almost gave you a whiplash.

discreetly orders things to your front door.

quivering lips settle atop of your shoulder for the last time before he sends you back from his room after the intimate amour that had you two wondrously occupied for the entire day. you pilfer a single gummy worm from his desk, and cloak yourself further into his jacket that intoxicates every one of your senses as you streel into the night air that reeked of petrichor. your steps begin to feel like bricks, whilst your eyes were betraying your wish to stay alert. as you approach the front door welcoming you to your dorm, you gauge the sight of a small box placed on the carpet with a small note plastered on it that follows the lines of "for you, pretty thing."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

cushioning your head with his hand.

bony fingers sail through the pleasance of your hair, twirling each and every tendril that it meets and bringing them to his defined, pillowy lips. amusement cracks through the ominosity that sits in his eyes, shielded by his bangs as he beams a smile your way before grasping your shoulders in a split second. he pushes you down onto the mattress with a thud, cushioning your head with a single hand, and tells you to save your yelps and complaints before he endows you with the ability to sing for him all night. he reassures you that he does in fact, know how to secure the deadbolt on the door.

doesn't bother with any potential contenders whatsoever.

malleus but it's "okay, and?" personified. yes, he's heard of the towering sovereign in the neighbouring country who was recently appointed. yes, he's heard of the lucrative salesman nearby situated in town whose attention you captured after visiting his booth. yes, he's heard of Leona Kingscholar. but he could not give Two (2) flying tamagotchis about whoever has been swaying your way, tossing cheap and low-grade courtship in an attempt to earn your affection. he notes that he does have some cheesy pick-up lines of his own to use, but unlike the others, he knows you inside and out. he has no use for the mainstream ways of love and is eager to please you to his own liking, further revealing the unparalleled reverence he maintains for you and only you.

brushes his fingers over your collarbone.

once you step across the threshold of his bathroom, adorned in his nightwear, malleus can't help but dim the lights with the flick of his finger after catching the sight of your collarbone that peaks out from underneath. he's in front of you the moment you blink, and hums in response to your addled self. he brings his ice-tipped fingers to your neck, padding it with caution, and sliding them down to the V-shaped collar that hides the rest of your warmth. stark fingers ghost over the structure of your collarbone, and malleus asks whether you think the gibbous moon will be kind enough as to not set so early.