#pressors

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ok Wild Angsters, you wanted a continuation, so here you go :)

Four already knew what he would be walking into. His phone had been blowing up for hours. He’d come in to work early. Whether he was assigned to take care of Wild or not was another matter - Vaati loved to try and take all the admissions, convinced he was the best nurse on the unit. If Four could just keep Vaati out of Wild’s room, he’d consider it a success.

When the charge nurse told him he would be admitting the trauma alert, he knew who he was getting.

Pre-admission jitters always made Four anxious, but this was an entirely other level of fear. He almost wanted to request a different assignment, but it was too late now. What if he couldn’t take caer of him because he was his friend? What if that impair his decision making? What if he just wasn’t skilled enough to handle it? He knew Ezlo wouldn’t give him an assignment he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t be there to support him, but still…

Four went over the supplies in his room once more. Safety checks were fine—they had suction, they had a bag valve mask, the code card was nearby—and he had all the supplies he needed. It was just a waiting game.

Four paced the unit at least three times before he looked at the OR status board again. Wild was still in surgery. He poked in his chart, glancing at injuries, looking at vital signs and anesthesia notes. The last update he saw was that Wild had gotten another unit of blood. Estimated blood loss so far was around 2200mL.

2200mL. That… wasn’t too terrible, Four supposed. He’d… seen worse.

Please don’t get worse.

Four knew for certain that Wild had been mass transfused in the ED. Warriors, his primary nurse when he was there, had told him as much. Between that and the multiple blood products he’d gotten in surgery, as well all the crystalloids he was likely getting as well…

Four took a breath. Then another. He grabbed his phone, texting Warriors. You doing ok?

Wars didn’t reply.

Four wasn’t entirely sure where everyone was at this point. Hyrule had stayed at the hospital, lingering in the emergency department and then the operating room waiting area, but Four hadn’t seen him since he’d clocked in. Warriors and Legend should be getting off shift now, but whether they were going to stay up was another matter. Time was obviously in the OR (Wild’s wreck had been around 10pm, he’d arrived in the ED around 10:45, and he’d been stabilized for surgery and gone to the OR by around midnight - it was 7am now… he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, but it couldn’t be much longer). Malon should be getting on shift now as well - she had come in last night when everything had gone down, alongside Twilight. Wind had been cautiously left out of the loop until Wild had gone to surgery, simply because nobody had really had much information at the time, so no one wanted to worry the kid until they could figure things out. Everyone had their hands full as it was. But by now, Four knew Wind was either in the OR waiting room, harassing every respiratory therapist he knew, or in the hospital library pacing anxiously. As for Sky, the last Four heard he was bouncing between different people, checking in on everyone.

He clicked through more anesthesia notes, looked at flow sheets for blood products. There wasn’t much to go on, as charting was sparse. What Four did know was that Wild had been obtunded, got mass transfused, had gotten a chest tube, had been intubated, blood was evident in his abdomen, and he had an open femur fracture. He’s been taken to Time’s OR for a ex-lap. Head CT had shown a bleed, and they were monitoring it. That was all the information Legend had told the group when he’d had a moment to spare.

Four’s vocera activated, telling him he had a call from the charge nurse. When he answered, he was told Malon had called and said they’d be finishing up in about thirty minutes and were likely to come up open.

Why was he coming up with his abdomen open? When had they gone from exploratory laparotomy to a full on open abdomen?

Ten minutes later, Malon called back to give report. When Four answered, the first thing he asked was, “How’s he doing? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Malon said, even though she sounded exhausted. “And he’s… hanging in there. I’ve seen worse, I’ll say that. I’ll give you the full rundown, okay?”

Four listened as Malon gave report, feeling his heart settled into his stomach, which was tying itself in knots. Multiple spots of bleeding, possible compartment syndrome in his abdomen, a likely kidney injury due to compression from the bleeding on some major vessels, a small hematoma in his brain… they’d had to call neurosurgery to do an emergency craniotomy out of overt concern of swelling, given that Wild had apparently had previous head trauma, based on what they saw in the OR.

Open abdomen, craniotomy, ICP monitoring, bleeding, one chest tube… this was a disaster. Four swallowed as he wrote, feeling his hand shake a little as his heart raced. He was not qualified enough to be admitting this. He was not.

But the turnaround on his unit was pretty insane, and he was the most experienced nurse on the unit today. At least Ezlo was charge; he knew he’d be well supported.

This was a nightmare. But Four had dealt with nightmares, and he would deal with this. He wasn’t going to screw up taking care of any patient, but especially his friend.

Sighing, he hung up the phone after thanking Malon, pushing worries for her and Time aside, trying to focus on what he would need, who he should grab to help him, and how he should prep his room.

It was time to get to work.

When everyone arrived from the OR, Four made brief eye contact with Time. He couldn’t read much from the man, who was stone faced, aside from the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Four got to work quickly, assessing Wild from head to toe as he looked to see what IV medications he was on. A coworker wrote the note while Ezlo helped detangle his lines (the OR always brought up a mess, after all). Time gave an overview of the surgery, and Four listened along as he checked pupils, as he zeroed the arterial line and the ICP monitor, as he listened to lung and heart sounds, as he checked the chest tube and stripped it with his fingers to ensure patency, as he checked peripheral pulses, as he looked at the abdominal dressing to get a baseline in case there was swelling from bleeding later. One of the techs connected the chest tube to wall suction, and Four looked over his drips. Only having levophed at 2 wasn’t terrible, and he was getting a unit of red blood cells, which was in a transfusion set that was y’d to some lactated ringers fluid. He was on propofol for sedation. Another nurse grabbed a blood gas from his arterial line and sent off labs. His foley he had was temp sensing, and Four quickly ascertained that Wild was cold, so he set up the blanket warmer and covered his friend up.

His friend. His friend.

Four shook his head. He had to focus.

As Time left the room, he put a hand on Four’s shoulder, making him freeze. The surgeon didn’t speak, just locking eyes with him. Four wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own benefit or not. But he had no more time to let his emotions make any decisions for him. He nodded to the doctor, who nodded in return, and then the two went their separate ways.

This was going to be a long day.

[twinsfawn]

𖤐

[doctorweebmd]

very nice people in comments/bookmarks responding to me being insane in the author's comments of my fics: i hope op is doing well UwU

op: <3 hours of sleep, refreshing the EHR to see if the guy she coded for 30 minutes last night is still alive, just ate half a pint of icecream, going back to work in 4 hours and somehow still writhing in guilt for not putting out a fanfic chapter in >1 month

[moosenaround2448]

Also holy shit this bangs

[mrsballlegs]

Everyone was annoying me bc I was annoying them by making them do things for my patient but it’s okay bc the orientee I was filling in as preceptor for said I’m kind of a badass

[almoststedytimetravel]

Paul Moon my new Nemesis.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love all your stuff! Are you planning to update Passion for Fashion, Child Support, or Congratulations It's Triplets soon? They are some of my favorites! If not, it's chill. Everything you write is kinda awesome so I look forward to anything you are willing to give

The Justice League has kept a weary eye on Danny Constantine because he is the son of one of their less than willing-to-work-in-team members and has found his way onto the youngest hero's team.

Robin, Abuse, and Superboy (the new one, not the Young Justice one) rarely went into the field. They mostly worked within Gotham, handling minor things until they got a feel for the dangers and the work of being a hero.

Bruce, assured everyone that within his city he was fairly sure he could keep them safe. (fairly because let's be honest, it is Gotham. That place was crawling with lunatics- Batman being one of them)

Clack would have preferred if Jon started in a smaller, less dangerous place, but his son has proven more than willing to sneak out to meet with Damian and Colin. It was no secret that Robin was the most trained and the most prepared to lead his team.

That didn't mean they were comfortable with three little children running around risking their lives. Phantom was the group's eldest but also the newest member of the team. He did struggle with his powers, but every day, under the careful eye of Batman's son, he grew more and more in control.

They were pleasantly surprised by how well he fit into the Super Sons. (A work-in-progress name developed when the team had only been Robin and Superboy.). The Justice League had been even more astounded by how careful Phantom was about property damage.

It's true that in a fight, they couldn't help with some damage, but Phantom always went out of his way to remind the other kids mid-battle to be careful and avoid breaking anything. He was more often than not racing after whatever car or building was thrown to faze it through other things.

He even helps the citizens take some photos for insurance purposes. It was shockingly refreshing to see someone worry about the logistics of being a hero.

When asked, Phantom would only blush in embarrassment. "My dad caused a lot of property damage when he drove. I got good at helping people file cases as an apology."

John denied it to everyone, but seeing as Danny's other father was literal Time itself, there was no way he wasn't the idiot on the road. Bruce prepared some lawyers for the people he may have hit and run.

It also helped that Danny seemed to be the new voice of reason within the Super Sons. One that wasn't convinced to try anything by Damian- --- Jon- or follow blindly behind Damian-Collin. He was respectful of Robin's role as leader but was always willing to talk him into respecting the team's suggestions and how to properly communicate. The success rates of Super Sons were skyrocketing with Danny, especially since Danny seemed to be great at PR.

Before Robin and Abuse were not as welcomed by the masses. Robin for being far more violent and rude than his pressors and Abuse for the absolute mountain of muscle that reminded people too much of Bane. Even Superboy was not as warmly noticed simply due to Gothamnics having a bitter rivalship with Metropolis City.

Phantom, on the other hand, was cheerful, helpful, and had enough of his father's sass to make even the worst of Gotham's grin. He also made time out of his day to help the community, walking people home, finding lost pets, cleaning up neighborhoods, and even appearing to clothe and feed whoever he came across.

Bruce himself claimed that a majority of the goons that Danny fought were slowly attempting to turn their life around. Danny had this strange ability to make people feel safe around him, and that let them get comfortable enough to talk about their issues.

It was hard to remember that Danny was blood-related to John Constantine out of all people. His civilian lifestyle, on the other hand, was completely different from his magical father in another way- he was a loser.

While Phantom had this glow, attention-grabbing charisma about him, Danny Constantine seemed to shrink in on himself and fumble with social interactions.

Bruce theorized that his human blood side lacked the near hypnotic attraction of Clockwork. Texts and tombs spoke of Clockwork as temptation itself, and he figured Danny had inherited that intoxicating ability.

This meant that Damian had to be worried about his teammate being bullied out of his sight.

It was displeasing to know that somewhere in the country, Danny was being made fun of, pushed around, or even attacked while he sat in the comfort of his elite school.

If there was one thing Damian Wayne could count as his flaw, it was being feireicly overprotective of those he considered his. That's why he strong-armed his father into paying for Colin to go to Gotham Academy while attempting to convince Clark to transfer Jon.

Jon himself didn't suffer from bullying, so he remained in Metropolis Middle School. His Beloved was moved to his classroom, where Damian had attached himself to his side and scared away anyone foolish enough to attempt to make Colin cry.

Beloved had awarded him with sweet kisses every time, so sometimes Damian hoped the fools of the Academy would try him more often.

Danny however, remained in some stupid school that had teenage boys bother him. John claimed he couldn't afford to send Danny anywhere better, and was seen stressing in the Watch Tower computer room looking into homeschooling.

Apparently, Danny's health depended on healthy relationships with humans. His biology literally attacked him if he couldn't be around people, and John was always pushing for Super Sons to have more meet-ups outside of suits as much as possible while trying to find a new school.

Danny has been moved to four schools already. The bullying just didn't seem to stop no matter where he went as a human.

"Father, it's important," Damian says for the fifth time. "Danny is struggling. It would be better to place him near us to provide protective support."

"Damian, I can't just pay for all your friends' education. It will get suspicious." Bruce sighs. "There are already rumors about Colin."

"But Father, you must think logically. Constantine may have sired him, but Danny is still Clockwork's son. He controls time. He is an entity we can not afford to make into an enemy. I highly doubt he will be pleased by how some mortals have been treating his son." Damian counters, ignoring the rage of the comment about his Beloved. He will find the mouths that will need to be taught to keep Beloved's name out of later. "This could stop whatever retaliation that is sure to be coming in its tracks."

Bruce considered it. "I could try to make it seem like Danny won something on his own....but I'm worried the board is starting to catch on. The other day Babs had to block an investigation of me possibly emblazing funds. "

"Father you do not understand-"

"Bruce!" Tim yelled, racing into the room, holding a laptop. "Bruce, it's Klarion! He's in Gotham."

Damian and Bruce both stiffen in horror. They dislike magic the most, seeing as it rarely follows predictable logic. Not that they couldn't eventually find the answer or the rules of whatever magic user was flowing, but it was a lot longer and headache-inducing. "Why is he here, and what does he want?"

"Well....he's not really doing anything bad?" Tim says, flipping the screen around. On it, the two Waynes can see a flouting teen snapping his fingers turning everything on the street into gold.

"If I was your husband, you would want for nothing!" Klarion cries, sinking to one knee before the startled-looking Phantom. "Oh, great heir of Clockwork, our union would be spoken for generations!"

"Lord of Choas Klarion, I am flattered by your offer but I'm not considering marriage right now." Phantom awkwardly says, rubbing his neck.

"But my young lord, Clockwork has proclaimed that your marriage partner is yours to make," Klarion says, snapping more of his fingers and turning the lined-up cars into large bouquets of roses. People scramble around from the demon, screaming as his magic nearly turns them. "Surely you see if our houses combine we would be unstoppable?"

Phantom's face hardens. "First of all, I don't date anyone for interest. Second, you're starting to bother the people of Gotham so cut it out. Third, I already said no so you-"

"Take a bloody hint and leave my boy alone!" John Constantine screams portaling into the scene with a wave of magic. He throws five powerful spells at the Witch boy who hisses back.

Hisses like a snake.

"Insolent mortal! This does not consider filth like-"

"Don't talk to my dad that way!" Phantom shouts cutting the Choas Lord off.

Klarion demonic features shrink back into a regular face as he blinks in shock. "This moral is your father?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Forgive my rude behavior, sir." Klarion's tone smooths out in an instant, snapping his figures to dust Constantine's shoulders. John frowns at him which makes the witch boy actually stumble. "Surely I can make it up to you? I am very interested in becoming your son-in-law and wouldn't want to make our relationship strain by my hasty behavior"

Bruce reaches over and closes the laptop before they can hear Constantine's response. "We are not dealing with whatever soap drama that was."

"Father!"

[sweetbans29]

Feud - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin navigate a long-standing basketball feud (based on THIS, THIS, and THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight angst, happy ending

Word Count: 4.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I am saying this now, I do not think I will be doing a part 2 for this. Not anywhere in the near future at least.

If someone were to tell you by your senior year of high school you would have a rivalry going on between you and some girl from Iowa, you would call them crazy.

You grew up in Southern California - attending Mater Dei High School and playing ball year-round. You were looked at as one of the most promising college recruits alongside girls like Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark. As exciting as it is to be named alongside these girls - it also came with its challenges.

The media caught wind that you were talking to Iowa. Talking initially all about how Iowa was going to be a powerhouse of a team having both you and Caitlin. When you announced that you committed to South Carolina - that is when they immediately pitted the two of you against each other.

It was all funny to you since you had never met the girl. You were encouraged to not look into what the media was saying but there were times that just wasn't possible. You saw how they compared the two of you - never showing the full truth. Even in the facts, they would only take bits and pieces of it and try to show the world how one was better than the other.

When you got to college - it only got worse. You remember your first game against Iowa. It had been all the media could talk about - seeing you go up against Clark for the first time. You saw headlines that went from saying how you didn't want to live in Caitlin's shadow or how you couldn't keep up with Caitlin's growth. Other headlines talked about how she hated you so much that she made you choose a different state to go to school. All of it was a load of bull in your opinion.

At your first game against the Hawkeyes, you were more nervous about all the talk surrounding you and Caitlin than the game itself. You couldn't get the last headline out of your head - 'Caitlin Clark to run circles around SC's freshman'.

"Hey, don't let any of what they are saying get to you," one of your teammates Aliyah says breaking you from the trance you were in.

"Ya, no. I'm good," you say coming back to reality. Aliyah just nods, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

The team goes and plays an incredible game. You were up at the half and were ready to take the second half which is exactly what you did. It was probably your best game yet and you couldn't be more proud.

At the end of the game, someone comes into your locker room and asks you to step outside. You follow before heading to the pressor to find Caitlin standing in an empty hall.

You are surprised and nervous all of a sudden but make your way over to the girl.

"Hi," you say not really sure what to say.

"Hi," she says back. As if just as nervous as you, she awkwardly extends her hand, "I'm Caitlin." You shake her hand and introduce yourself. She continues.

"I wanted to meet you in person in a controlled environment," she says with a little laugh eluding to hiding your first meeting from the media.

"Ya, they have been sort of insane," you say with a laugh of your own. "You had a really solid game today - I can see why so many people love you." You look at the girl standing before you and see her begin to fidget.

"Me?" She says on the verge of shock. " You dominated that court today - I was having a hard time keeping up with you. If anyone had a solid game it was you." She says.

"Well, thank you CC." You say with a smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

"Of course..." She says.

"I am really glad you came here," you begin. "If I'm honest - the media has been a lot recently and I know you are nothing like they are making you out to be. I don't know how you have felt about it but I truly appreciate this gesture. We don't need to be the best of friends, but we don't need to be strangers."

"I like that, although I will never stop trying to beat you on the floor." She says.

"Oh, I expect nothing less. Now knowing you are a sweetheart, I have no problem keeping up this 'feud' the media is creating - it's what the people want." You say playful giving her a little push.

"Oh that won't be hard considering the second we step onto the court my only goal is to bury you into the ground," Caitlin says with a smile. "I am sure we can keep this up and give them what they want with ease. Just know, it is all love off the court."

The two of you exchanged numbers and went on your way. Over the course of the next few years, both of your paths crossed several times. At games, award events, and random camps. Every time the two of you were in the same building the media would eat it up - always posting photos of the two of you giving each other death stares (which never really happened, they just timed it perfectly to make it seem like that or take snippets completely out of context). Since you first met her, the media hasn't taken such a big toll on you. It also helped that she would text you whenever something overly threatening or mean came out. It had you falling for the girl every time - deciding to push the feelings aside, thinking it was just her being sweet.

It was your junior year when things heated up in the media even more than they had in the past. Going into March Madness, all they could talk about was you against Caitlin so much that it brought back all the drama that started when you were going into college. Through it all Caitlin had reached out and reminded you none of it was real. It was very sweet of her.

Your two teams were facing off in the final four and you could not be more prepared.

The game was a close one the entire time - neither team had more of a 5-point lead at any time. It all came down to the final quarter.

Tied going into it - both teams fought to go to the championship game. Two minutes into the quarter things took a turn for the worst.

You were guarding Caitlin - staying vigilant on defense, ensuring she didn't get a good shot. When she went up on a jumper you hit her arm while trying to block the ball drawing the foul. You cursed at yourself for allowing her to go to the free-point line.

She makes the first one with ease and sets back to the line for a second. Everyone anticipates it going in but the second she releases, you can see how her eyes shift as she begins to make her wait for the ball. You cut in front of her, jumping up going for the rebound as she does the same. You get your hand on the ball trying to hold onto it as you make your way down to the ground.

What you weren't expecting was to be shifted so much that when you came down you landed directly on your knee, causing you to let out a murderous scream. Your hands immediately let go of the ball and make their way to the center of the pain - your knee.

The stadium silences immediately - leaving only your cries as you curl up into a ball.

Caitlin - being the closest one to you is hunched over you with her hands on your shoulder while your teammates run to get medical.

"You're okay, you're okay." She keeps muttering as she really doesn't know what to do to comfort you. She knows she is the one who knocked you off balance in the air but never imagined this to happen.

"They are coming," she says trying to restore hope in you.

The medical team comes up and instantly knows they need to get you out of there immediately. They call for a stretcher which comes within seconds of them asking for it. Your eyes are glued shut as you bite the top of your jersey to avoid letting out any more screams.

The pain has blocked out anything and everything happening around you. You can't even remember how it happened, all you know is the centralized pain.

Caitlin watches as they remove you from the floor. She has never been this distressed when it has come to someone leaving the floor due to injury - not even girls from her own team. Cait makes the mistake of looking up at one of the monitors as they replay what happened and tears begin to form on the brim of her eyes as she clearly sees she is the cause of your injury. The media is going to have a field day with this but even more so - all she could think about was how she could ever begin apologizing to you.

Kate makes her way over to the shaking girl and pulls her into a hug.

"That wasn't your fault," she says in her ear. "Don't carry this."

Kate had been the only person on the team who knew the friendship that had been growing into more than Caitlin knew how to put into words. Kate could also see, Cait was very much at fault for what happened but knows how much Caitlin keeps in her head and shouldn't shoulder this right now.

Once you are taken through the tunnel - everyone does the best they can to regroup from the traumatic scene that had just taken place.

Your team was trying to regroup as they had to make adjustments on the court after losing their star player, also just trying to remain composed after seeing and hearing you go down. Kate was trying to get Caitlin to calm down and get her head back in the game. The crowd at this point remained silent until play resumed.

Your team lost to Iowa by 4 and no one could blame them. It was a hard loss but everyone was more concerned what the outcome of your injury would be over the ending of March Madness.

Once you were taken back, they decided it would be best to take you to the ER to get checked out. Shortly after arriving, they determined it was a transverse patella fracture which meant your patella broke into two and it would require surgery to fix if you ever wanted to play again. It was a no-brainer.

The next few days were a whirlwind for you - they kept you in the hospital as they prepped for the surgery and you started recovery after.

Your team came to visit and took turns rotating so you wouldn't be alone. Your manager thought it would be best to stay off of social media which you didn't argue with one bit. The last thing you needed was someone saying how your career was over. You went so far as to get a secondary phone and phone number just to communicate with the team and your family.

Once you were let go from the hospital to recover at home, you finally got your phone back and it was filled with messages. You scanned through them stopping at the one that caught your attention the most.

Phone in hand, you stared at the dozens of missed calls and messages from Caitlin. You clicked into her messages and began to read about how sorry she was and how she wanted you to let her know when you were home. You fought with yourself to listen to all of the voicemails she had left and settled on listening to the last.

You click on it and bring your phone up to your ear.

"Hi," she sounds completely defeated. "I know I have left you countless voicemails but I just really want to see how you are doing. This was never meant to happen - I...I don't know what was supposed to happen but it was not this." You hear the shakey breath that she takes before continuing. "I don't want to keep bugging you if you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't even be listening to this and would have just deleted it but I know you are better than I am and just pray that this gets to you. That this gets to you before any of the media gets to you or spins the story into something it's not. Not that you owe me anything, but I ask that you don't listen to any of it. Don't do that to yourself because none of it is true. It is all lies that they have spun to their own narrative." She is crying now but does the best she can to cover it up. "This was never supposed to happen, I am so sorry." She struggles out and hangs up.

You imagined the first handful of messages were similar to this one and decided not to listen to them. It wasn't out of anger or resentment but you knew that in order for you to move on you couldn't hang on that moment.

The next few months consisted of recovery. You were determined to come back for your senior year and were going to come back stronger and more prepared than you have ever been. When the season started - you were back to training but weren't jumping back into games until the third week into the season.

Your manager did a really good job of keeping you out of the media - per your request leading up to the season. The first time you were brought back into the light was during your team's first game of the season. You were on the bench - coaching and encouraging your team. It wasn't the first time the media had seen you but the first time they got to talk to you. There were preseason training videos that were released that showed you back in practice but always highlighted other players on your team.

During this first game though, you were going to be mic'd up for a midgame interview.

"We are so excited to have you on the air as your team kicks off the season, can you give us insight on how recovery went for you?"

They were really just jumping in. You let out a little laugh and proceeded to answer the question.

"I am excited to be back - recovery was not easy and challenged me in more ways than I expected it would but I can honestly say it has grown me in more ways than playing would have." You say as your eyes are glued to the game happening in front of you. "That a way Tessa! Get back get back!" You yell to your team.

"We got word that you will be back on the court in a few weeks, are you excited to be playing for your senior year?" Was asked next.

"Of course. I have been itching to get back on the court - YES PAOPAO! AND ONE! - sorry, yes I am ready to get back out there and help my team on the court. We have a single mission and are ready to conquer." You say.

"Does that one mission have anything to do with Caitlin Clark?" One of the anchors asks, curiosity getting the best of them.

You take a second to compose your answer.

"I wish nothing but the best for the girl. She has really elevated the game and visibility of women's sports in general. If our paths cross again, which I can see happening - there are no ill intentions." You say and then give your exit, going back to the game.

Caitlin was watching and couldn't stop replaying the video. You never responded to any of her messages - even the ones that came further along in your recovery. You had cut her off knowing it was what you needed. She couldn't blame you but really wanted to pick up where the two of you left off - during your time of not talking she realized how much she wanted you in her life. You were one of the only people she met with the same mentality as she had and could share in the craziness that the media spat out. You brought out the best in her without even being in the building.

Cait watched you for what felt like the hundredth time and really hoped that your paths would cross this season.

Both of your teams went the whole season without playing the other. This only built the tension for the NCAA tournament. You had jumped seamlessly back in with your team and contributed to their undefeated season. Caitlin and the Hawkeyes fought hard coming back for redemption. As the tournament heightened and both of your teams kept winning - the media kept circulating articles about the faceoff everyone has been waiting a year to see, Caitlin and you on the court again.

Right before the Final Four - videos of your injury circulated again and pitted Caitlin as the villain in this completely made-up narrative. When hearing them - it took everything in you to not reach out to her. Everyone was telling you not to talk to anyone about Caitlin. Your manager also strongly advised you to not make any contact considering everything was under a microscope.

You did really well until you saw that Iowa was playing UConn in the final four. You had been friends with Paige for years now and knew they were ready to take on Iowa but something in your heart was rooting for Caitlin.

The morning of the Iowa v. UConn game you did it. You pulled out your phone and sent a quick message. It was a simple text but carried more weight than just the words present - it was the first contact you had initiated since before your injury.

Caitlin was still in her apartment when she got the message. She was straightening her hair with cameras on her for a documentary coming out on ESPN. She puts her straightener down and picks up her phone, trying not to show the message's effect on her knowing she was being recorded. Looking at the phone for longer than needed her eyes were glued to it.

[Other half: You got this.]

She doesn't know how to respond but she wants to. As she is thinking through how, her phone rings. It's Kate. She answers and quickly makes her way out of her apartment knowing she is picking up Kate before heading to the stadium.

Caitlin didn't mention the text she had gotten - not that she could mention anything with the camera crew still present but her mind was going crazy.

The Hawkeyes went in and took UConn by two points, sending them back to the championship and facing off SC in the championship. The face-off every sports fan has been waiting for.

The celebration was grand but Caitlin's mind kept wandering back to how she was going to respond to you.

When she was finally able to make it back to the locker room, she sat and responded to you.

[CC: Can we meet up after we play?]

Caitlin sent it and sort of regretted asking but she wanted to talk to you face to face. You responded faster than she had expected.

[Other Half: Yes]

The championship game comes faster than everyone anticipated. Both teams preparing for one final game. Up to this point - you alongside a Kamilla had committed to the draft. From Iowa - Caitlin had made her statement saying she was going to the draft. Both of you know this last game is a significant one. It would be the last of your college career.

The game is a crazy one - buckets exchanged with the leads fluctuating between your team and hers. At final buzzard it was your team that came out on top.

The celebration was epic as you saw Caitlin and her team make their way to their locker. Pictures were taken and confetti was thrown. When things begin to die down you see Caitlin emerge from the tunnel looking for something. You have an idea that she is looking for you and are proven right when she spots you, nervously making your way to you.

When she approaches you - the two of you nod to one another saying little good jobs. The amount of cameras surrounding you is insane as they get the content of you two together.

You want to put this college feud behind you as you both head into the W so in one swift movement, you remove your jersey. Caitlin takes the hint and does the same leaving you both in your undershirts.

You pass your jersey to her and she does the same with you. You both hold them up and let the media get all the photos they want of the two of you. Once you are done, you pull her in for a hug.

"Meet me in the coach's room," you whisper in her ear. She nods and the two of you part.

You finish the celebration and interviews and head back to grab your stuff. Before heading out, you make your way to meet Caitlin.

When you get there you see a girl sitting in a chair, looking down at her hands as she picks at her nails. She doesn't hear you enter but looks up when you close the door. She immediately stands and makes her way to you not really knowing what to say.

You look at her and pull her into a hug. You never said it but you missed her more than anything.

"I am so sorry," she says, her words muffled as they are spoken into your neck.

"Stop apologizing." You tell the girl in your arms.

"It was all my fault - I was mad and didn't realize my strength when I went up. You were out because of me and I will never forgive myself for that," she says not wanting to let you go.

"Caitlin lighted up on yourself." You say and pull away to look her in the eyes. "If I am honest, I blamed you at first. I was upset and frustrated and blamed you. But as time went on, I realized I only had myself to blame. You were playing the game - I would have done the same exact thing. As I was recovering - I started to be thankful for what had happened because it forced me to grow up. No one likes to be injured but I wouldn't be who I am today if I didn't have that time."

Caitlin nods along to everything you say. You bring your fingers to wipe away the tears that fall.

"If anything I should be the one apologizing," you say and Caitlin shakes her head from side to side.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I do, I cut you out and I shouldn't have. I am sorry." You say. "Friends?" You ask sticking your hand out in a joking manner.

She takes your hand and shakes it. "Friends." She confirms.

The next week is a whirlwind as the two of you part ways to get ready for the draft. You two talk at least once a day trying to figure out what the next chapter of your lives could possibly look like.

When the night finally comes, it is more than you can imagine. Seeing so many congregate to highlight the sport and get ready for another great season while welcoming the new rookies is something you will never forget.

Caitlin is picked first - heading to the Indiana Fever. You could not be more excited for her. You were mentally prepared to head to the Phoenix Mercury or the New York Liberty.

It comes as a complete shock when you are picked by the Indiana Fever as well. You head up to the stage and go through your initial interview.

As you make your way back - you barely get to the hall before you see someone running up to you. Before you know it, Caitlin is in your arms. Her body is flush against yours as her arms wrap around you, squeezing you with everything she has. You lift her off the ground and squeeze her right back.

You could care less about who is watching - the only thing running through your mind is that you are about to spend the next four years with the girl in your arms.

When you place her on the ground she doesn't let you go but rather buries her face into your neck. You smile and let her hug you for as long as she wants.

It's in this moment that things begin to stir inside you. Your heart swells and you feel whole. Your hand comes up to hold the girl's head. There is no way the two of you are just friends and this moment solidifies that for you.

Weeks pass after the draft and you are getting situated in Indiana. You and Caitlin decided to find an apartment together.

The night of the draft the two of you found your way back to each other after going your separate ways to celebrate. That is when Caitlin admitted to having feelings for you dating back to your sophomore year of college. You sat there in complete awe of the girl and admitted that you had just recently realized your feelings for her but could probably date it to your recovery. From then on the two of you decided to take it slow - knowing how the media has been towards the two of you up to this point.

That sort of flew out the window when she asked you to find an apartment together when you both moved to Indy. And you were sure as hell glad she did.

After four years of the media pitting the two of you against each other, you were finally able to change the narrative. You were no longer rivals but now the new power team ready to take on the W.

AN: Tried to get a little of everything in here, I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[mindblowingscience]

Researchers from several institutions in Norway studied 10,732 adults, with two batches of data taken 7-8 years apart. The data compared exercise routines with pain tolerance, as measured via a cold pressor test, or CPT, where you dunk your hand into frigid water for as long as possible, up to a maximum tolerance time of 106 seconds. The results were pretty consistent: Those who were more active were better at handling the pain of the cold water for a more extended period, and those who increased their activity levels over the two survey points increased their pain threshold too. "Being physically active at either of two time points measured at a 7-8-year interval was associated with higher pain tolerance compared to being sedentary at both time points," write the researchers in their published paper.

Continue Reading

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

Part of a blackstream fic I lost steam working on. I'll get back to it eventually.

💜💜💜

“You’re really sexy.”

Blackarachnia snorts. “And you clearly have a traumatic processor injury.”

“But I mean it!” Slipstream protests, throwing herself forward into sitting up. Ratchet shouts at her to lay back down on the medical berth. First Aid scrambles to save the tray of medical supplies beside the berth from getting hit by a stray wing. Blackarachnia drops the syringe on the tray and gently pushes back against the seeker’s chest.

“Woah, let’s avoid sudden movements like that,” she says, trying to urge her back into a sitting position. “You lost a lot of fuel out there.”

“You’re sexy!” Slipstream pushes, clearly having not heard a word she said. “And you’re cute and funny and I like you a lot and, and, and—” Her optics lose focus and she blinks once, twice, before declaring, “I feel lightheaded.”

The spark rate monitor screams a flatline as she goes limp and falls back against the berth once more. Ratchet is moving before Blackarachnia can even register what’s happening, getting her hooked to the defibrillator pads and starting a fuel transfusion on her. The shock of the moment disappears in an instant as she primes pressors and First Aid shouts, “Clear!”

They get her stabilized, which, given the Allspark shard still jammed into her chest, isn’t too hard.

[laura1633]

CHARLES TOLD GEORGE WHAT DID HE MAKE PRESSORS DID HE MAKE PAMPHLETS DID HE MAKE PPT ON HOW TO TREAT HIS BOYFRIEND??? I NEED THOUGHTS LAURA

Hahaha!! Charles gave everyone the rundown beforehand, he knows what his boyfriend likes and he wants to make sure he is fully satisfied 🤭😂

Although I am sure there are some 'special moves' that Charles keeps secret because he wants the other drivers to make Max feel good but he wants to be the one who drives him absolutely crazy.

Nineteen fic

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Live footage of me at my critical care conference that I signed up for

(Art from Jojo’s linkeduniverse)

[whirligig-girl]

Ooze that's learned how to pilot

Eaurp held up the bright yellow disk cassette with one hand and shook their other hand until their fingers threatened to fling off. They emitted a high pitched whine, and a hissing sound, in addition to the sounds of wobbling jello from their shaking body.

"What is it?" Slamtha said.

"ITS! MY VERY OWN COPY!!!" They said, still vibrating with an intensity that never failed to amaze her.

"Of..." Slamtha said.

"Whuh? Oh! I told you about it!" Eaurp said. "During History class?"

"Oh right. Starship simulator?"

"SHUTTLECRAFT SIMULATOR!" Eaurp said. "Come on! Let's get to a library computer!"

"Oh... I dunno," Slamtha said. "I'm not sure I'd be very good at it."

"Oh pleeeease Slamtha? I'll go clothes shopping with you even though thinking about clothes for too long makes me want to dessicate!"

"Hmm. Alr--"

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Eaurp said, grabbing and tugging Slamtha's hand so hard they almost melded together.

Slamtha laughed. "Ok, ok, fine, let's go."

At the library, Eaurp plugged the disk cassette into the disk drive, and opened up their account on the desk terminal. Slamtha scooted up next to Eaurp with a laptop terminal in hand.

"I got to try this before, at the Starfleet booth at the job fair. Apparently they don't even distribute these for personal use, I had to write a letter to Starfleet's public relations department, and then I had to use the disk burner in the computer science lab."

"Oh, why didn't we just go play in the computer lab?" Slamtha said.

"They're running on like 15 year old mainframes. I think it might still work, but only if I set the computer up as a single partition. And I don't want to get kicked out."

After the disk drive lit up green, Eaurp grinned at Slamtha, who stared back with a neutral gaze.

The menu loaded in as a faux-LCARS display. Eaurp had already been through the training level on a Type-9, so they skipped it and went right for the Class-F, the vintage shuttlecraft that they used to use on the original Enterprise.

There was a barebones character select function, since they were in multiplayer. Slamtha chose a generic human woman. Eaurp figured they may as well do the same. The session began, and Eaurp walked their character around the shuttle, taking in its details. The graphics were so realistic, they must have been based on original schematics to look this good.

The mission was simple--land the Class-F on the M-class planet in a storm, drop off supplies, then take off and return to orbit.

Slamtha and Eaurp's characters sat down. Eaurp leaned over Slamtha's console, pointing out all of the individual displays and controls. Eaurp sat to Slamtha's left, so they couldn't see her frown.

"I... don't think I'm cut out for this," Slamtha said.

"Oh come on, you haven't even tried it yet," Eaurp said.

"Ok, well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Eaurp flicked the internal power switch, then used the communicator item to call for the airlock doors to be opened, and then engaged the antigrav tractor-pressor, and slowly rose the shuttlecraft off of the hangar deck. Eaurp looked around, scanning for the manuevering thrusters. She flicked a switch, and the simulated computer made a satisfying clickit-a-clickit-a sound. She pressed the arrow keys on her keyboard and the translation joystick on the shuttle moved forward.

"As soon as we get out of the shuttlebay, we'll be outside of the Constitution's inertial dampeners. Be prepared to keep us pitched right. Crossing through space doors in three... two... one..."

"Ah!" Slamtha shouted, as the stars suddenly lurched and spun.

"Woah! Woah!" Eaurp said. "Turn on auto-inertial dampeners!"

Slamtha frantically looked across the simulated console and the keybind popups and grimaced. She settled on hitting the spacebar. Both character's views got thrown back into the seat as the impulse engine was activated. From there, it all happened fast. The game lagged a few frames, then the warp nacelle got larger and larger, and then the shuttlecraft clipped into the nacelle. The shuttle shook and vibrated violently as horrible collision sound effects overlapped.

"Woah, look!" Eaurp said, switching to the external camera. The shuttlecraft was clipping through the great big cylindrical warp nacelle, with the impulse engine still firing. "They simulated the reaction control system on the Constitution!" Manuevering thrusters shot bursts of gas from the ends of the Consitution's warp nacelles, from behind the covered grates, fighting the impulse engine exhaust from the shuttle.

"WHAT DID I DO?" Slamtha shouted.

"Haha! I think you mixed up the stabilizer key and the impulse engine ignition, right at the same time that I mixed up the ventral translation key with the throttle keys!" Eaurp said.

"So... it wasn't my fault?" Slamtha said.

"It's both of our faults!" Eaurp said.

"Oh. Hah. Hahaha!" Slamtha said. "Ahaha. I thought... nevermind."

"What?" Eaurp said.

"I... I dunno. I was nervous because I knew you'd be so much better, but, ahah, we both just really suck at this!" Slamtha said.

"Let's go back to the tutorial level and try again!" Eaurp said. "The LCARS layout of the Type-2 is a lot simpler, and they do a pretty good job of simulating it here!"

"Ok, ok."

5 years later

Tears and melted sclerae rolled down Slamtha's cheeks, dripping onto the command console. She was pretty sure she still remembered how this thing worked.

Why had Eaurp left her. Why had Slamtha's kin turned their backs on her. Why had everything fallen apart so quickly. Things were finally good. They were finally good. She was a glob-dam astronaut candidate for the United Mellanus Space Program. She was going to get to do archaeology on another planet!

But! She tore it all apart! This little psychological episode was gonna make sure she'd never see the inside of another spacecraft again. So she'd better make this one count.

Slamtha sobbed, barely able to see the LCARS display and the front window. She saw the mellanoid space program safety officers running back to the shuttle. Now or never. She tapped the impulse engine control and the engine ignited. The shuttlecraft slid on its nacelles like skids, until she pressed her fingers to the steering widget, just barely managing to pitch up in time to avoid hitting the wall at the edge of the spaceport.

Ascent to orbit usually only took a few minutes, but Slamtha had other plans. She tilted straight up, climbing in a straight line path out of the atmosphere, rocketing ever higher and faster. She wiped her eyes clean and tried to reform them, and got one last look at the planet below.

"Alright," sniffled Slamtha, "which one of these is the warp engine?"

Slamtha swiped up on the main control panel and then found a promising looking button, then tapped it. The rescue shuttle jumped to warp, aiming no particular direction except for far, far away.

Slowly, Slamtha's cardiovasculature calmed down, and her skin softened, and she thought about what had just happened. Then she started crying all over again. What had she done. Maybe... maybe if she just turned back now and explained what she had been through, then... no. She'd just stolen one of the only warp capable ships on Mellanus, and taken it on a joyride. She'd never be able to go back. What was she going to do? Set a course for San Francisco and run into Eaurp? Slamtha didn't even know what star Earth orbited. Maybe the LCARS in the shuttle did.

She didn't want to see Eaurp again. That backstabbing good-for-nothing so-called "friend" who abandoned her just because she couldn't handle a fraction of the transphobia that Slamtha had to put up with her whole life.

She had her own ship. She could go anywhere. She could go places that didn't care if you were a woman or not. She could find some... alien university, maybe? And finish her archaeology internship somehow? But... but... no, no, none of this makes sense. Eaurp got to escape! Why couldn't she escape? Why couldn't she--a red alarm flashed on the screen, indicating a ship was approaching. They were hailing her.

"Fuck." Slamtha said. "It's probably the Feds come to arrest me. Ok, ok, act natur--"

The ship shook violently as a bright green light fired at her.

The display panel read "shields down."

A green tractor beam locked on. Slamtha tilted her head to look up above her. That wasn't a Federation ship. It was huge, dark green and orange, winged, with glowing red spikes coming out of the hull.

"Computer, identify?" Slamtha said, her voice shaky.

Vessel is a heavily modified Orion Class-II freighter. Klingon derived engines and type-V disruptor strips.

"That doesn't sound like a freighter."

It wasn't.

[onlygenxhere]

Rules: list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists (can’t have a repeat of the same artist) on a poll, so your followers can vote which album they think captures your vibe the best

Thank you for tagging me @floating-in-the-blue even though this is wicked hard. I was gonna do soundtracks but I feel like that's cheating so... Links to songs/albums under the cut.

ok links to a song off each album...

Evanescence - Fallen - My Immortal

Halestorm - The Strange Case of - Freak Like Me

Pat Benatar - Crimes of Passion - Treat Me Right

Kelly Clarkson - Chemistry - You're my Favorite Kinda High

Pink - Greatest hits so far - Just like a Pill

No pressor tagging. @missjoolee, @andremichaux, and @bananakarenina

[sarcasticbabywhispererjess]

Attn: Talk of death and dying of babies. Please feel free to scroll on without reading (I also wrote a lot, so I doubt many people will take the time to read it).

I ended my three night stretch by being a post-mortem photographer since the last two nights at work have been madness.

Really classic full moon shift on Saturday. Our one kid that had come in during day shift and soft crashed onto ECMO (I say soft crashed because they managed to never lose a heart rate and need compressions because of many doses of Epi). I was support nurse both nights (aka I didn't have a patient assignment, I just help everyone out if/when they need it) and on Saturday my other support nurse and both charges spent most of their time with the patient on ECMO that wasn't doing well. Then at 0620 they lost their HR and a code was called. Which would have been less of an emergency if the ECMO machine was circulating well, but it really hadn't been all night. I was on the opposite side of the unit at the time and I hustled to get over there. Ultimately the code was successful in that we got the ECMO to work, but we never got the HR back. From the ECHO we did the heart was bad, we'd done a bedside CT during dayshift and it wasn't great. They did eventually did withdrawal and the baby passed.

Last night started out pretty slow. Then the little 500g preemie that had perfed their bowel and had bedside surgery on Friday to place drains (they usually opt to do that with the very little ones instead of fully opening the belly to remove any dead bowel) decided to start acting up. Their pressor had been turned off during the day, it was back on and higher than before. Their blood gas at midnight was terrible. The attending got very hyperfocused on thinking that it was maybe a pericardial effusion because they had had a deep PICC (though, she admitted later, her perception was skewed because of a baby that had recently had that happen). What was actually most likely happening was more of their bowel was dying. Although we didn't lose the HR for the first couple of hours (though there were a few deep bradys when we were putting the Bovi pad on to prep for another bedside surgery) because, again, we were giving Epi boluses and had started a drip. Unfortunately once the surgeons got the belly open the baby started to brady, we lost the IV access we'd been using for all our IV push drugs, and then they were asystolic. Per the conversation the attending had had with the family prior to starting surgery it was decided to just quickly close the baby up so family could hold before they died (though they were already mostly gone). After they had stopped manipulating the bowel we did get a bradycardic HR back (not sure if it was PEA or not since no one checked for a pulse, though we might not have been able to feel on either way since the BP was so low). The complexes fairly quickly became wider and slowed down until they again flatlined. Unfortunately they had fully passed just before we got family into the room. A while later after they'd had their bath and spent time with the family, I went in with the bedside nurse to get hand and footprints for the legacy boxes we make for these situations. Once we were done with that we started taking some pictures including some with parents. I'm not really much of a photographer especially with just an iPhone, but I got some fairly good pictures. My faves were close-ups of their tiny little hands and feet... probably because they look quite dead in all the pictures. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get the picture printer to work, so that became a day shift opportunity because it was like 0650 and I had to give report so I could go home.

It's been a while since I've had a group of shifts like that. I'm hoping this isn't starting another grouping of patient deaths like we had a while back. I have one day off and I'm back as support again on Tuesday night. I did have plans to maybe be semi productive today and make it to the gym, but I never got a break last night and I'm a little behind on sleep from the last few days... so I'm just going to nap and chill today.

[mrsballlegs]

The new unit clerk (who several weeks ago refused to believe me when I told her that a fib was a fib and not junctional tachycardia) spent all night silencing BP alarms without telling nurses on several patients which multiple nurses complained to me about but the kicker came when I finally realized she had completely TURNED OFF the alarms on my art line because earlier in the night it kept alarming when I was bolusing and starting levo and she got tired of it…. and when that had happened instead of making sure I knew the BP was low she fucking epic messaged me to ask me if I still had a goal MAP of 60 because it was lower than that… 20 minutes in while I was in the room with the doctor actively bolusing and starting pressors…. It actually took me forever to realize that she had turned the alarms off, I thought she was just silencing it without telling me before I heard it and I even checked to make sure she hadn’t changed my parameters but it legit didn’t even occur to me to check if the alarms were still on because that is so fucking unacceptable it didn’t cross my mind as an option at all. I actually didn’t even know you could turn the alarms off from outside the room until tonight…

I may have a new enemy now because I told her off in front of everyone about turning the alarms off, then told my supervisor everything that happened including the a fib thing, and he spent like 20 minutes in there with her trying to get through her defensiveness and then called me in and she complained that I was too harsh and she didn’t get a chance to apologize….. I don’t want an apology I want my patients to be safe!! And we were in there like 20 minutes longer with her still being sorta defensive even though my supervisor was being super diplomatic