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misswaffleswrtingcorner · 3 years

Note

Can I get CPR with Riddlebat?

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for the prompt!

General tags: Reformed! Riddler, Edward knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, Edward “It’s not like I like you or anything” Nygma

Warnings: Drowning, Near Death Experiences, resuscitation, medical inaccuracies

The human body had a thing called a "cold shock response". It was probably the single most useless thing the human body could do. Upon hitting the cold water, his body reacted accordingly and he gasped, taking in frigid water into his airways. Immediately he tried to cough, but that was only making things worse. And now he was starting to panic, which was always a bad thing in these kinds of situations. A rise in heart rate, muscles starting to spasm due to the cold and wasting energy by blindly flailing; All a perfect storm for dying in Gotham Bay. Just how many bodies were under the waves here, having gone through the exact same thing?

Edward thrashed uselessly, disoriented and not knowing which way was up. Was he really just going to drown? That was a pretty pathetic way to go, if you asked him. He was a good swimmer, but with the recent beating he had tiring him out coupled with the blow to the head, he was struggling. His vision was starting to darken and he was feeling faint. The panic started to subside, replaced by numbness. So he really was going to drown. Well, at least the Bat wouldn't have to worry about rescuing him, it was pointless to save a corpse. He couldn't even try to save himself now, limbs useless and sluggish. A dark figure entered his field of vision, but before he could process what it was, everything stopped and went dark.

Bruce carefully set Edward down onto the pier, having pulled him out. The Bat remained calm as he checked for signs of life. He placed one hand on the other's forehead and the other gripped his chin before he tilted his head back, lifting his chin in the process to open his airway. He leaned down, turning his head so his cheek hovered over their nose and mouth, eyes locked on his chest. No movement, no sound, no air tickling his cheek. Edward wasn't breathing. He pressed two fingers to the pulse point in his throat. He didn't feel a heartbeat under his finger tips. Bruce let out a curse.

He pinched Edwards's nose closed and sealed his mouth over the other's. He exhaled, forcing air into still lungs. Or at least trying to. He was met with resistance, the man's chest remaining still. Dammit. Readjust, try again, still resistance. Bruce turned Edward's head to the side, water trickling out of his mouth. He had water still trapped in his airway. Bruce straightened and placed his hands interlocked one over the other on Edward's chest, heel of his palm digging into his sternum. Raising up on his knees and locking his arms straight, he pushed down, let up, and repeated in a steady rhythm. Water bubbled and spurted from the smaller man's mouth with every compression until there was nothing left. Once the Bat had reached thirty, he turned the other's head to the side to let the remaining water out of his mouth and did a quick sweep with his fingers just to be sure there wasn’t anything else blocking his airway.

Once Bruce was sure that was all of the water, he tilted his head back and lifted his chin again and tried to give a rescue breath. This time he didn’t feel resistance. He pulled away, listening to the passive exhale and watching his chest fall after being inflated. Good, his airway was clear. Another breath-- ignore how cold he is already. "Come on, Ed," he grit out. He straightened again and placed his hands interlocked one over the other to the center of his chest again and restarted compressions.

Edward's ribs caved with every pump, his shoulders drawing inwards and head lolling to one side. Bruce had done CPR numerous times; On civilians, friends and even on enemies. It'd gotten easier over the years, so much so that the feeling of another person's ribs shifting and bowing under his hands didn't bother him anymore and neither did the unnatural movements. Once he reached the required thirty chest compressions, he moved to give another two rescue breaths. Ever since his reform, and actively working on being better, Edward had been a helpful ally. Though, even if he had been still a villain, he’d still be trying to pull the man away from the jaws of death.

He pressed one hand to Edward’s chest, using his other to grope around his utility belt, continuing compressions with one hand in the meantime. It wasn’t as effective, but it was better than pausing completely. From his belt he produced a palm sized box with two pads rolled up and taped to the sides. An AED of his own making. Thank God for his absurd preparedness. Now he had no choice but to pause completely, taking the tape off of the pads and unrolling them. He had to move quickly, now. Each second CPR was paused was a second he couldn’t afford to spend. He gripped the other’s shirt and roughly pulled it open, the dress shirt’s buttons popping and flying off in other directions. He took the pads out of the protective bags and pressed them to the appropriate spots on the smaller man’s chest, one right under his right collar bone, and the other under his left pectoral and off to the side on his rib cage. Bruce took a quick look at the screen and was relieved that the line wasn’t completely flat, instead there being a sawtooth pattern.

V-fib was treatable. He pressed the shock button and internally winced as Edward jerked from the shock. The line on the AED screen went flat, then back to the saw tooth pattern. Bruce let out a curse under his breath before giving another two rescue breaths and went back to giving chest compressions as the machine charged. They were running out of time. The other man’s complexion was much paler than usual, almost ashen, and his mouth was starting to take a blue tint. His heart needed to start beating on its own again now. Another two breaths, thirty more compressions, ignore the pop of a rib snapping. The AED chirped that it was charged and he pressed the button again. Edward jerked again and Bruce watched the screen. The line went flat…

And then there were healthy peaks and hills shown. Sinus rhythm. He checked for a pulse just to be sure and felt a faint beat under his fingers. Bruce felt himself relax, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. Edward still wasn't breathing on his own. He continued rescue breathing, quietly urging the other man to take a breath on his own. After the seventh breath, he felt movement, followed by a cough when he pulled away. Soon enough, he was breathing on his own again, though still unconscious. Now came the hard part: Getting Edward to a hospital. He might have gotten his heart beating and lungs working, but there still could be damage. He pulled the pads off and tossed them aside. He’d either come back for the AED later or make another one. Carefully, Bruce lifted Edward up, adjusting the smaller man in his arms so that his head rested on his shoulder so he didn’t strain his neck. It was probably unwise to move him around like this, but it wouldn’t be safe for long. “I got you, Ed. Hang in there,” Bruce said, hoping that he’d be able to hear him. He hoped, prayed, that the P.I didn’t have brain damage after all this.

Edward immediately recognized the sterile smell of oxygen as he slowly came to, feeling a nasal cannula on his face. He could feel small, sticky pads on his chest, an IV in his arm, something clipped to his finger and hear a machine beeping by his side. A hospital. He slowly cracked his eyes open and was greeted with a white ceiling. Yep, a hospital. Edward winced at how much his throat and chest hurt. Every breath sent a dull pain through his ribs and down his windpipe, but it was so much better than not breathing at all. “You’re awake,” A voice announced. Edward was half-expecting to see the bat at the end of the room, but instead there stood Bruce Wayne.

Well, same person, different outfit.

Edward let out a chuckle. “I’m hard to kill.” Good God, his voice sounded rough. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Did you get worried?”

“I just wanted to make sure you made it,” Bruce said. He walked closer to the bed, stopping at the foot of it. Edward took note of his posture, hands in his pockets and shoulders relaxed. It was so different from Batman. “Do you remember what happened?”

"I was thrown into Gotham Bay and left for dead,” He stated. “Not exactly unusual.”

“I’m just glad you’re not a vegetable,” Bruce began. “You had us worried for a second.” Edward let out a snort and Bruce raised a brow.

“Oh, please. I’m hardier than most, Bruce. You of all people should know that.”

“You were comatose for three days, Ed.”

There was a pause before Edward spoke again. “... how bad was it?” He watched Bruce’s body language change. It was still relaxed in comparison to Batman, but now showing clear discomfort. It must have been bad. Especially given that he was out for days.

“Your heart stopped,” He finally said. “Twice. I got you back the first time, then your heart stopped again at the hospital and they managed to get you back a second time. When I say I was worried you’d be a vegetable, I mean that. You didn’t have a pulse for a total of 20 minutes, Ed.”

“Oh.” Another paused, then a sigh before Edward gave a small smirk. “Well, my statement still stands. I’m hardier than most.” Bruce chuckled and shook his head.

“You really proved that, I admit. When you get out of here, I want to have another talk. Right now, focus on resting and recovering. I’ll get a nurse for you,” He said. “I’ll see you later.” He gave a small smile of his own, pulling a hand out of his pocket and waved before turning to leave. He was almost to the door when--

“Wait,” Edward said, stopping the other in his tracks. Bruce turned back around. “... thank you. For not letting me die. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t, that’s not not the person you are, but I still think I should thank you. Not many people would have done that for me."

"Any time. Just don't make a habit of getting thrown into the harbor" Ah, dark humor. Edward's favorite. He knew him so well.

"Oh, trust me, I won't be doing that again anytime soon. And if I do, you have full permission to smack me."

"I'll hold you to that. Rest up, Ed." And with that, he was gone.

Edward watched the doorway, quietly wishing the other would walk back in. He let out a sigh and turned his attention back to the ceiling. He'd probably be here for a while more yet just to make sure he had complete cognitive function and motor skills. He didn't feel any impairments, but then again, he hadn't done much, now, has he? Regardless, part of him still wanted Bruce in the room. His presence brought a comfort he couldn't explain, in or out of the bat suit. The realization that he had been technically dead not once but twice had shaken him. Not that Edward would admit that. He would never admit that. He'd never admit that he wanted Bruce here, either.

He closed his eyes and huffed.

#tw cpr #tw drowning #bad things happen bingo #edward nygma #reformed riddler #the riddler #batman #bruce wayne #Riddlebat #whump #or should I say BAT things happen bingo #Haaaa #Anonymous

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marvellouslymadmim · 5 years

Note

Hecate and Dimity (platonic) in the bedroom with the potion please?

Dimity groans at the sight of Hecate Hardbroom clipping into her bedroom. “No, no, no—this is exactly like the beginning of my worst nightmare.”

“Shut up, Drill,” HB commands curtly, apparently not as amused as Ada and Gwen are. With a dramatic flourish, she calls forth two potion vials into her hands. She unstops one with her teeth and hands it to Dimity, who’s still lying face down on her bed, “Drink this.”

She very nearly taps Dimity’s shoulder, out of habit. Thankfully catches herself just in time, fingers curling inward, wincing at the sight of her bloody, punctured flesh. Dimity had been up in the air, overseeing the fourth years, who were flying through manufactured weather conditions as part of their safety training. A nasty gust of wind had hit, throwing her into the metal spikes of the weather vane. Hence her current predicament: surrounded by staff in her private quarters, bleeding all over the sheets while Hacksaw Hardbroom prepares for some ghastly repair work (that last bit being an actual utterance from Dimity’s lips, upon realizing that Hecate would be the one performing the spells).

“Now, be still,” Hecate commands. She gingerly pulls back the fabric of Dimity’s robes, already torn from the accident. She’s never been one to go queasy over such things, but still, her face skews in sympathy. It’s deep. She takes the second vial and gently pours a few drops onto the wound site. As expected, Dimity hisses and flinches. In her drollest tone, Hecate says, “Try to be a little less dramatic, Dimity dear.”

It’s the dear that bucks her up—she’ll be damned if she becomes the object of Hardass Hardbroom’s pity. Hecate smirks, only briefly, knowing that her arrow’s hit her mark. Dimity’s too pissed to fully focus on the pain now. The remainder of the vial is slowly poured over Dimity’s wound, the flesh already shifting and mending faster than it ever could on its own.

Soon, the worst is over. The first potion, meant to dull the pain, kicks in, and Dimity’s shoulder is properly bandaged without any further fuss. Hecate dismisses Gwen and Ada, taking a few extra beats to simply watch Dimity’s face, now less lined with pain and more familiar, more right looking.

“Will it at least be a badass scar?” Dimity mumbles, already half-unconscious from the painkiller.

“Absolutely,” Hecate concedes gently, fully certain that she can get away with it—Dimity won’t remember this conversation, when she wakes. She summons a chair and sits. Only to ensure the potion is working, of course. No other reason.

——————

When Dimity awakes, she blinks blearily, trying to reorient herself.

“Ah,” HB’s voice is light, somewhat amused. “You’re awake.”

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Though one could not call you entirely out.” Now Dimity’s eyes are working properly again, and the glee in HB’s expression is palpable—and terrifying. “You were quite chatty under the influence, Miss Drill.”

Dimity groans. “Oh bats and boils, what did I say?”

“Let’s see,” HB opens the notebook in her hands. Dimity immediately wants to shriek. “You compared Julie Hubble’s hair to…’perfectly soft pats of butter.’ I do say, Miss Drill, we might need to work on your acclamatory skills.”

“Please, just kill me now.”

“You talked about Miss Hubble quite a lot, actually. At one point, you said you’d like to…” Hecate frowns slightly, reading her own writing. Then, with a small shake of her head, she decides, “No, I shan’t read that aloud.”

After a beat, she murmurs, half to herself, “I’m not even sure that’s physically possible, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh, wait,” Dimity suddenly understood. “I’m already dead, aren’t I? I’m dead and this is hell.”

“Your lack of faith in my medical skills is a bit disheartening, Miss Drill. You’re perfectly alive and well. And you will continue to be, for quite some time.” The little notebook snaps shut in her long fingers. Her smile is absolutely shark-like as she adds, “And I trust you’ll be much more tractable with my requests in the future.”

“You’re fucking blackmailing me?” Dimity wants to sit up, but her body’s still not fully listening to her brain’s commands.

“Only if you don’t behave,” HB tuts, rising to her feet and leaning over Dimity’s shoulder, delicately pulling back the dressing to inspect the wound. She seems pleased with her work—whether she’s more delighted about actually saving Dimity or simply having something to lord over her, Dimity isn’t entirely sure. “Now, rest for a few more hours. It’s teacher’s night tomorrow, we wouldn’t want you missing out on a chance to see Miss Hubble.”

“I must be alive,” Dimity concedes. “Not even hell could be this awful.”

HB merely hums in amusement. “If you’re lucky, I won’t accidentally leave this lying around on my desk when she stops in. And if you’re very, very lucky, she’s actually flexible enough to do half the things you listed, in rather gory detail, during your haze.”

Hecate can’t resist—she boops the tip of Dimity’s nose before happily sauntering out the door. Then, once it’s closed, she sends the perfectly blank notebook back into vanishment.

Sometimes she just can’t help herself. Drill makes it far too easy.

[Send me a prompt from the Cackle’s Academy Prompt Game]

#oh this one was too much fun #thanks darling!#linguini17 #asks #cackle's prompt game #tww2017 #hecate hardbroom #dimity drill #reluctant ride or dies #secret besties #they love each other #deep down #deep deep deeeeeeep down

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dynoguard · 7 years

Text

NaNoWriMo: Return of the DinoKnights (Day 3)

Day 1 & 2 text is here.

Jason’s ears were ringing.

He was leaning against the side of the limousine door. The vehicle was tilted toward the driver’s side. The window safety glass sagged inward, the shards held back by the inner plastic coating. Daylight streamed against his face from the opposite side of the cabin.

“Jason, wake up, I need you to wa-” His father’s voice broke through the ringing and the world started to come into focus.

“Dad?”

“Thank goodness.” Sagan whispered as he turned his son’s head gently, checking for injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” Jason blinked. ”Aunt Susie?”

“Right here Shortstack.” His aunt Susie leaned in through the opened door. “You’re going to be okay.”

Sagan helped Jason unbuckle his seatbelt and slide out of the disabled car. Once free, Jason could see the limousine had remained mostly in place, but it was smashed and twisted, with its tires burst, windows shattered and the driver’s side partially buckled under.

“What happened.” James said, staring at the wreck he just came out of. “What hit us?”

“If I had to guess.” His father said. “That did.”

He pointed to the building they had driven up to see. The Observatory still stood, but adjacent to the cantral telescope stood a tower of dull gray stone. It was as thick as the observatory dome and went up six or seven stories by Sagan’s estimate. The top of the tower seemed to curve away from them, as though it lead to an observation deck that, at the moment, lay hidden behind the tower’s mass.

The tower wasn’t built onto the observatory, but seemed to have been slipped inside it. On every surface where the building and the tower touched, growths of six-sided blue-green crystals sprouted like grass grown through a cracked sidewalk.

The ground and road were also cracked, and in those cracks flecks of crystal sparkled in the fading daylight.

Jason turned to the adults. Gloria Anning seemed none the worse for wear, outside of mussed hair and a torn sleeve. Aunt Sue was wrapping her right ankle in a handkerchief from her purse, but otherwise seemed unharmed. They’d been lucky. There was another man with them, the driver, Jason surmised. He was middle aged, with graying hair and a bandaged nose.

“No signal.” Suzanne said.

“No surprise there. We had to put our own tower up out here.” Gloria pointed to a portion of the gray tower. A chunk of cell phone tower connected two overhangs, nests of green crystals on both ends.

“Where’d it come from?” Jason asked.

“The crystals.” Gloria said. “It grew, perhaps?”

“Maybe. “ Sagan said, rolling the possibilities around in his head. “But it was instantaneous, the force that hit the car could have been the air and earth it displaced.”

“If I could interject, Mrs. Anning?” The graying driver spoke up.

“Of course Steven.”

“I don’t have any major bruises or broken bones, I’ll head down the mountain, get help once I can get a signal.”

Gloria walked over to him and handed him a phone from her pocket, and one of the bottled waters from the limousine. “The unlock code is 7422, call Grady in the phonebook, explain the situation to him. Ask for Medical Team Blue from my clinic. Blue.”

Steven nodded solemnly, and put the phone in his jacket pocket. He doffed his cap in an old-fashioned sort of way, and began down the cracked pavement back down the mountain.

“No... but the building was close to opening. There should be at least four on site, the insurance requires it.” Suzanne said.

“Then we’ll need to go get them. Sagan, you’re with me.”

“I can’t leave my son here.” Sagan responded.

“Suzanne can’t walk in her state and she shouldn’t be left alone.” Gloria responded. “ So either we all wait here, or two of us go and two of us stay.”

“Dad!”

The three adults turned, Jason had walked a short distance away, along the edge of the grounds. Sagan and Gloria followed, their eyes on the odd curve of the tower at the top as they went. As they moved, they could see the tower wasn’t curving into a platform or room. It was a sculpture, made from the same gray stone as the tower. The style was sleek, the figure rendered in motion, head thrust forward, eyes wide with anticipation, mouth open in a bellowing roar.

“Is that a T-Rex?” Sagan asked.

---

There was a clap of thunder followed by darkness and the sensation of hitting a metal floor.

Sheriff Horne stretched her hands out, and lifted herself from the ground. The room was entirely black, but she could hear the others cry out as they hit the ground as well. She fumbled for a table or console, and slowly rose to her feet.

Her body ached, she felt tired, like she hadn’t eaten or slept for day.

She took a deep breath, and shouted as loud as she could. “Linn!”

“I’m right here mom.” Linn groaned.

Slowly, a few lights flickered on, the illumination going dim. Kyle was standing up, slowly, next to a wall of stone that was where his console had been. The front edge of the console was still there, and the whole wall sparkled with tiny crystals. Zara was still unconscious, but was still breathing.

“What happened? Did that... thing hit us?” Horne half-spoke, half-shouted.

“Hi, Mrs. Horne, I’m Kyle, your daughter has been a great intern by the way.” Kyle said, a vague shape in the flickering lights. “We’re still alive, which means Rachus and Hurlant’s theory was right! You can expand a separation field through an existing framework, in this case the power grid-”

“Kyle.” Horne said.

“-which means it’s just been a blink for us, but the meteor impact will be healed by now-”

“Kyle!” Horne shouted.

“Kyle, your arm.”

Kyle looked down at his left arm, the one he had used to throw the switch to activate the mechanism.The limb stopped a hand’s breadth from the top of the shoulder, the wound was perfectly smooth, with a slight concave curve to the cut. Strangely, it did not bleed, the wound seemingly cauterized despite the flesh appearing all but untouched.

“Oh. I’m in shock.” Kyle blinked. “That makes sense.”

Kyle slumped into his chair. He idly raised his remaining hand to his head. The horn just above his ear-hole had been severed like his arm. A few more inches and whatever it was would have taken a chunk of brain.

“Mom, there’s a medical clinic in section 3.” Linn said. “Even on skeletal staff there will be a doctor.”

“Good thinking, Sweetie.” Sheriff Horne said, squatting down to look into her daughter’s eye. “I need you to watch the other one until I get back. The Rescue Orders are on the street already, help is on the way.”

“Sure, mom.” Linn said. A half second later, she continued. “Be careful.”

Sheriff Horne helped Kyle to his feet, letting the larger scientist lean on her for support. “C’mon Kyle, just gotta make it to medbay.”

They rounded the corridor marked 3, disappearing into the flickering darkness.

And after a short moment, a single voice rang out.

“Oh no.”

Zara was beginning to get her feet, as Linn bounded past her, a rush of feathers, claws and tail,after her mother’s shocked cry.

A short distance into the tunnel, she recognized the problem.

Instead of a lengthy corridor lit with the emergency lights and lined with windows to the outside, there was a stone wall, sheared smooth and perfect as polished glass. Strange blue-green crystals lined the edges of the stone and the synthetic stone construction of Science Tower One.

“Where’s Section Three?” Linn gasped.

“The better question is ‘where are we?’“ Zara said from the corridor doorway.

The observatory’s lights ignored the flick of the light switch by the entrance. Without other options, Sagan and Gloria navigated their way through the building by flashlight. The central hallway was now half as wide as it ought to be, a section of gray stone wall from the strange tower intersecting the passage.

“Two building trying to occupy the same space.” Gloria observed.

“And the crystals?.

“Not sure... that’s why man invented laboratories.” She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a multi-tool, flipping through blades until she found a thick screwdriver suitable for use as a chisel. “Little souvenir.”

She struck the tool against the base of one of the smaller lumps of crystal. The crystal did not budge, but at the point of impact the crystal flared with a blue-green light, one that rippled through all the crystals in the seam. Gloria snatched her hand back, shaking it, but she did so a few moments later than Sagan thought normal and the shake started weirdly slow before accelerating back to normal speed.

“It shocked me!” She said. “They’ve got piezoelectric properties.”

“It didn’t just shock you. You slowed down, like you were in slow motion, after you hit it.”

“Fascinating.” She said. “Its a bad idea to hit that again, isn’t it.”

“Probably.”

“Thought so. We’ll get a full science team down here once everyone is safe. Hit everything properly.” She said. “You’re signing a very hefty NDA about all of this, you realize.”

“That depends entirely on what we see.” Sagan said, firmly. “And you can’t threaten me.”

“Sorry, I’m blunt, your cousin thinks its a syndrome but my teachers all said I was rude.” She paused. “What I mean to say... is we’re going to make sure you’re so happy with how this turns out, you won’t mind signing the very hefty NDA.”

“We’ll work that out later, look at this.” Sagan shined his flashlight at a section of wall starting three feet above the floor. A hole, about 2 feet wide, was cut out of the tower’s strange stone wall, as though a spherical section inside was missing. Everything within the spherical space was from the observatory, including part of a desk and a section of filing cabinet, which had collapsed into the floor. The result was a gap, allowing entry into the strange building.

“A way in.” Gloria smiled wide.

“We’re heading to get a medical kit.” Sagan replied. “Exploring the amazing appearing tower can wait.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to take a quick look.” She said, and began climbing up through the hole into the adjoining space. She slipped halfway through, then tumbled through the hole with a surprised yelp, followed by a series of thuds, and then silence.

“Gloria. Mrs. Anning!” Sagan shouter. “This... I get you’re eccentric but this is over the line.”

There was no response.

“I swear, if you’ve killed yourself I am not going to jail for this.” He stood in place, listening for some reaction. None came.

“I already regret this.” Sagan said, stooping to put his head through the hole in the wall. The light of the flashlight caught a glimpse of a column of gray skin and the hint of an immense, living shape before a hand as large as his body grabbed Sagan James and pulled him into the dark room beyond.

He had never hated being right so much in his life.

#nanowrimo #dinoknights #return of the dinoknights #fantasy #sci-fi #dinosaur #youth novel #furry #scalie

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