Whumptober Prompt #13- Adrenaline And #17-Stay With Me

Whumptober Prompt #13- Adrenaline and #17- “Stay With Me”

Heeeey.  I’ll make this short, no one’s really reading anyways. This is ColdFlash.  The Adrenaline is interpreted rather loosely.

Chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Chest compressions.  Gasp like there’s no air.  Breath.  Breath.  Listen to his heart.  Don’t hear anything.  Chest compressions.  Don’t panic, don’t paNIC, DON’T PANIC.  Breath.  Breath.  Nothing.  Start chest compressions again.

“Stay with me, Barry, stay with me.”  Mutter under breath.  Barely notice the water vapor.  Jacket is still sticking to skin.  Hope that the cold won’t kill him faster.

Don’t look at his slack, angelic face.  Rip off mask just in case it’s impeding his breathing.  Check his airway again.  Don’t think about doing CPR on his lifeless body.  Continue doing chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Check his pulse.  Check again.

Panic.

“No, no, no, please, Barry, stay with me.  Don’t go, don’t go, stay with me, please.”

Feel lost.  Feel scared.  Feel angry.

“You bastard!  How dare you?  Come back, you bastard!  Come back!”

Clench your hand into a fist.  Pound on his chest.  His body jerks.  A small trickle of water comes out of his mouth.  Grasp onto the smallest hope.  Do it again.  And again.

… 

With the greatest sound Len had ever heard in his life, Barry coughed, throwing up water and bile as his airways cleared.  Len turned Barry onto his side, and the coughing became easier.  When he stopped throwing up, and his breathing seemed to come naturally, Len hooked his arms around Barry’s knees and back, hauling him into Len’s arms.  He really wished he could take Barry to Star Labs where his friends could help him, but there was no way he could do that.  Len would have to leave his bike behind, he couldn’t hold onto an unconscious Barry and drive at the same time, but thankfully, he had a safehouse a couple of blocks away so he planned out a route in his head.  They were in a neighborhood where nobody ever looked out their windows, so he could just run with an unmasked Flash in his arms and no one would see anything, or say anything if they did.

In exactly fifteen point seven minutes, Len fumbled for his keys in his back pocket, trying to balance an unconscious Flash and open his locked door at the same time.  It took him fourteen point three seconds, an increase from his usual ten point nine, to get the door open and manhandle Barry inside.  He set Barry down on the nearby couch, glad he had had the foresight to put the couch close to the door, though he had done it in case he needed a quick shield or barricade.  He grabbed the throw pillows Lisa had given him as gag gifts, the ones with the Flash and Captain Cold personas on each, and tried to set Barry up so he was comfortable but still kept his airways clear and his chest without too much pressure on it.  He wasn’t a doctor by any means, but he’d read enough from the medical textbooks the prison libraries had available to know he needed to keep the stress off of Barry’s chest.  Soon as he was satisfied, he wrapped Barry in as many blankets as he could find.

Soon after, Barry’s wonderful, beautiful green eyes fluttered open.  Len’s entire body sagged in relief.  Barry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his mouth moving stiltedly.

“Barry?”  Len asked, trying to be gentle.

“-one.”  Barry struggled to get out, coughing again.

“One?  One what?”

Barry tried to clear his throat.  “Phone.”

Len pat down his jacket, and pulled a waterlogged phone out of his pocket.  He grimaced.  He hadn’t taken anything out of his pockets before jumping into the water after Barry.

“I have others.”  Len stated, setting the now useless phone on the coffee table.

He bolted to the bedroom and easily got into his safe, the one where he kept his important documents for the apartment like ownership papers and fake identities in case he needed to run, and pulled out the first burner phone he saw.  When he returned, he saw Barry trying to reach for the dead phone.

“Use this one, this one works.”  Len pressed the phone into Barry’s hands.

Barry’s hands were shaking as he tried to type a number into the text message function.  He kept slipping so Len gently took it from him, listening ardently.  Barry rattled off a number, a local one, so it was either Cisco or his father.

“What do you want to say?”  Len asked quietly.

“Cisco- it’s Bar.  Am safe.  Will come back ASAIC.”  Barry panted, sounding exhausted.  “Am safe, aren’t I?”

Len chuckled dryly.  “Yes because I’ve gone to all of this trouble to pull you out of a river, given you CPR, and dragged your dumb Hero ass all the way to one of my apartments to kill you.  It’s all a part of my master plan.”

Barry’s mouth quirked into a small smile.  Len would deny ever feeling a flutter of butterflies in his stomach like a schoolgirl at seeing that smile.

“Typed and sent.”  Len said, showing Barry the phone.

Barry nodded and closed his eyes again.

Len sighed, feeling just a tad guilty but shook Barry anyway.  “Nope.  You can’t rest just yet.  You gotta help me get you out of this suit.  You’re freezing.”

Barry didn’t open his eyes, he merely hit a button on the chest plate of his suit and it became more relaxed than Len’d ever seen it.

“Come on, you can’t help me?”  Len teased, feeling a little better about getting back into their usual rhythm.  “You’re gonna make me strip you alone?”

Barry didn’t answer him.

Len checked his pulse and breathing, and found them both strong.  It seemed Barry’s metahuman healing factor was putting him back together at record speed.  Len double checked them again, just in case.

Then he soldiered on, manhandling Barry out of the Flash suit.  Barry must’ve been more than exhausted to let him do this alone because all he found underneath the Flash’s red not-leather, as Barry once insisted, was Barry’s smooth marble skin and toned muscles.  He didn’t even know that Barry had a six-pack, but to be honest, it made sense.  Flash was strong enough to take on guys like King Shark and Gorilla Grodd so having a six-pack and muscles that almost made Len drool didn’t seem too far-fetched.

When he got to the legs aspect of the suit, he hesitated.  Barry only wore his boxers underneath, and those certainly couldn’t stay but he did not want to do that alone.  But it seemed Barry was good and out, and wouldn’t be helping.  So Len tried to push his personal feelings for Barry, and definitely his attraction to Barry’s stunning runner’s physique, as deep in the back of his mind as he could and got to work.  He peeled the fabric away, first from the suit, then from the soaking wet cotton that was the only thing left protecting Barry’s modesty.  As soon as he could, he threw the blankets back over Barry so the temptation to look would not have its day.  He hung the soaking wet Flash suit over his shower curtain, with Barry’s boxers right next to it.  Hopefully, they could dry a little that way.

A low moan caught his attention.  He returned to the couch to find that Barry was beginning to wake up a little.

“Come on, baby, wake up.”  Len whispered, shaking Barry’s shoulder a little.

“Baby?”  Barry blinked his eyes open, much more coherent that the last time.

“What?  No, I called you Barry.”  Len said, cursing his stupid mouth for acting without his permission.  “You must still have water in your ears.”

“Water?”  Thankfully, Barry seemed to buy it.  “Wait, when did I get wet?  When-” Barry reached up to his face and recognized that he was no longer dressed.  “Where is my suit?!?”

“Relax, Scarlet,” Len smirked, enjoying that Barry was turning the color of his nickname, “It’s drying in my bathroom.  You were soaking wet, you needed to get out of those wet clothes.”

Barry nodded.  “That explains why I’m so cold.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  Len asked.

Barry frowned.  “Jewelry store.  A new meta with some kind of either super strength or molecular density rearrangement… That’s it.”

“He got you pretty good.”  Len filled in.  “You took a bad hit to the head, and went flying over the bridge into the Mississippi.”

Barry stared at him.  “Then… how did I get here? With my suit in your bathroom?  Did you pull me out?”

Len distinctly ignored the memory of panicking in the murky water, desperately searching for the speedster.

“Eh, you more washed up on shore.” Len lied. “I couldn’t have anyone find you and know your secret.  How else would I still be able to continue working without you constantly throwing me in jail?”

Barry stared at him, his mouth twitching until he smiled.

“You saved my life.”

“I merely did what was necessary for me to do what I want to do.”  Len said.

“Then why did you give me CPR?”  Barry asked.  “I can feel it, you know.  I can feel my ribs knitting themselves back together and my lungs aching from the water.  You said I took a bad hit to the head.  Not the chest.”

“You probably broke your ribs when you hit the water.”  Len tried.

Barry’s smug smile was spreading across his face.  “No I didn’t. You saved me.”

“If you start with that ‘there’s good in you’ shit again, I’m kicking you out.”  Len snarled, his hackles rising.

Barry put up his hands in surrender.  “Wouldn’t want that.  You got a phone I can borrow? I need to tell the team I’m okay.”

“I already sent them a text.”  Len grumbled.

Barry’s smug smile got worse.

“Hey, that was your fault.”  Len accused.  “You were moving around trying to get a phone, I had to send it because you couldn’t.”

“I was?”  Barry asked.

Len nodded.

“I don’t remember any of that.”  The smug smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown.

“You took a bad hit to the head and fell off a bridge.”  Len said, gentler.  “Cut yourself some slack.”

Barry nodded back, then looked Len up and down.  “Are you okay?”

“Ask yourself that.”  Len said.  “You’re the one who fell off a bridge.”

“You seem cold.”  Barry started.

“Why thank you, and me without my parka.”  Len shot back.

“No seriously, you look cold.”  Barry tried again.

“The cold never bothered me anyway, Scarlet.”  Len smirked.

“Then why are your hands shaking?”  Barry asked bluntly, ignoring the terrible line.

That caught Len off guard.  He looked down and, shit, Barry was right. He shoved his hands and found his jacket still soaked through.

“Let me get out of these wet clothes and I’m sure they’ll freeze.”  Len said, standing.

Barry groaned.  “That was terrible!”

@its-not-too-bad the good news? I know how to fix this. Bad news? It might happen again. I’ve had to appeal several times. But I’m also kinda an expert.

So go to tumblr.com/support and then wait for the side menu to load. Once it does, there’s a drop down menu for category- click on my blog was incorrectly marked explicit and then in the box say that you’re a human being, not a bot, and anything else you find relevant. Then click which blog got censored, make sure it’s the right email, and do the captcha. Repeat as many times as necessary.

guys my blog was fucking censored I’m so angry NONE of what I’ve posted is explicit! Every post that got flagged was repealed immediately!

Reblogging this so hopefully more people see it.  I’m temporarily unflagged.  For now.

Whumptober Prompt Four- Human Shield

Hello all.  I’m trying here.  I’m very much trying to reach out to tumblr to stop the algorithm from targeting me but I am making very little success.  But I’m still trying.  Here’s day four- Human Shield.

AO3 link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899490

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Whumptober Prompt #2 and #6- Explosion and Dragged Away

@winedark-whump you wanted to know who Sam was, and how he died.  Your wish is granted.

A high pitched ringing was going back in forth from one side of his head to the other. He blinked slowly, the darkness mixing in with colors, until he could finally distinguish the sky from the buildings under it. The ringing shifted, assaulting both ears now that he could focus better. He tried to pull himself up, they needed to go… somewhere. He wasn’t sure exactly where but he knew it wasn’t here. Here had fallen debris all around, lots of little fires, tons of smoke, and was that blood? Not a good place to be. He tried to lift himself by his arms but fell to his left side. He looked down and saw dirt. He frowned. Dirt? Shouldn’t there be something there that’s not dirt? His eyes slowly traveled upwards and saw what was left of his left arm. Memory hit him like a freight train.

Ever since Arrow had lost her Hero, she’d become almost as fanatic as the rest of them. Phoenix and Mirror Mirror had just been causing a little mayhem, nothing too big, just a casual museum heist. They’d hoped not to run into any Heroes but together, they were unstoppable so it didn’t really matter. It seemed, however, that someone was dumb enough to try.

“Fucking lousy criminals.” Arrow sneered, Michael catching her first arrow from up in the rafters of the museum. He knew that was merely a warning shot, Arrow always hit her targets. “Always have to ruin everyone else’s day. This artwork is supposed to inspire love for humanity, for life. And taking it just leave those without. How cruel.”

Michael clenched his fist, her arrow exploding in his hand. He sneered right back at her, “Lousy Heroes. Always ruining our day.”

Arrow rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, the tip glinting in the light. Michael snarled, recognizing one of her cracked diamond arrows. Those were a bitch to get out, as if you weren’t careful, the diamond would shatter in you, forcing you to go to a hospital or risk having diamonds enter your bloodstream.

Michael grabbed a button out of his pocket, he always kept spares in case he needed a weapon, or more importantly, if one popped off his corset. He charged up, and threw it upwards. He wasn’t Arrow, with the gift of impossible accuracy, but he was a pretty good shot. She dived as the button exploded, using the rafters as a gymnastics bar, swinging herself down to their level.

He motioned for Sam to take the props and leave the ringers behind, while he charged straight at Arrow. He had to admit, some of the best parts of a classic museum heist is leaving the fake artwork behind so cops have no idea what they’ve stolen.

She jumped back at his straightforward attack, knowing he only needed one slip up to get all five fingers around her. He wouldn’t kill the little shit, but singeing her a little wouldn’t be too bad.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck.

“We’re taking this outside so you don’t break shit!” Arrow shouted, throwing him through a window.

His back hit the glass first, and he felt it crack underneath his weight. The shards embedded themselves in his back and legs as the force propelled him through the now shattered window. Somehow, he landed on his right foot before crumpling to the ground. Pain flirted with his body but never truly stayed in one place too long so he knew nothing was broken. Trying to ignore the bruises forming all over him, he pulled himself up, knowing in the back of his head it had been her ability to accurately throw him that had saved him from permanent damage.

A sharp cry brought his attention back to the shattered window. Sam had Arrow pinned to the edge, nearly succeeding in throwing her off. She threw a punch Sam easily deflected, tried to kick Sam’s feet out from under him which he easily blocked, then grabbed an arrow from her quiver and sprayed him with a foamy substance, which caused him to pull back and which sent herself over the edge. She grabbed onto one of the banners advertising the very painting Michael was stealing, flipping and landing without any injury to her perfect high-heels.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to break shit, you seemed to have no problem throwing me out a window.” Michael said, grabbing a couple pieces of broken glass around him. He charged them up slowly, knowing glass was a very dangerous weapon for him, as too much power would cause the glass to break and simply latch onto the nearest surface.

“Better to replace a window than mourn a priceless Monet.” Arrow fired back, notching another arrow.

“It’s Mo-ney, you idiot.” Michael jeered as it were a schoolyard tiff. “He was French, the T is silent.”

“Whatever!” She shouted back, clearly embarrassed. She fired her first arrow, easily and quickly notching another, and Michael threw his first piece. They hit each other straight on, resulting in a small explosion. Arrow narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked.

Then Sam hit her from behind with what was left of a nearby lamppost.

Arrow collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Michael stared.

Sam jogged over to him, and kissed him lightly. “Hey, babe.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh that was easy. Once I copied her, I figured out her weakness. Hyperfocus. Don’t know if she’s ADHD but she can’t focus on the two of us at once without putting one of us on the backburner of her mind.”

“You’re the best, babe.” Michael smiled. “How’d I end up with such an amazing partner like you?”

“You’re a thief.” Sam smirked. “You stole my heart.”

“Would you still love me if I never gave it back?” Michael teased, the familiar words rolling off his tongue like raindrops off a leaf.

“I will always love you.” Sam whispered.

Michael gently kissed his fiancé. “I lo-”

Before he could finish, an arrow shaped like a boxing glove hit him in the mouth. A second with a net attached to it hit Sam, slamming him into a nearby wall. Sam’s head lolled haphazardly, blood trickling down a cut on his face.

“Sam!”

A punch to the face sent him reeling. A punch to the stomach caused him to double over. Arrow then brought her clasped fists on Michael’s neck, sending him to the ground with a grunt. A sharp stiletto dug itself into his left wrist, hitting the ligaments in between his hand and arm. Instinctively, he had let go of the piece of glass he was holding but found himself unable to stop the charge, as all five fingers were being forced upon the ground with the toe of her boot.

“You gotta let me up.” Michael gasped through the pain. “I can’t turn my power off.”

“Impossible.” Arrow snapped. “I’ve severed your median nerve and your transverse carpal ligament. There’s no way you can be using your gift. Even you’re human.”

The ground beneath the glass began to shift into a more fuchsia type color.

“Seriously!” Michael implored, panic starting to seep into his voice. “I don’t know how but I can’t turn it off! You gotta let me up!”

Arrow simply notched another arrow, this one tipped with what looked like a stunner.

“Liar.”

“Please!” Michael begged. The concrete beneath him began to crack, fuchsia energy building up underneath the surface.

“No!” Arrow screamed, and for a second, they locked eyes, and all Michael saw was a frightened child behind her mask. “All you criminals do is lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You can never trust a criminal. They’re incapable of trying to do anything good! Their hearts are black, their minds are corrupted, and their gifts are evil incarnate! Only those who use their gifts for the betterment of all humanity can truly have a heart!”

Unable to fight the growing power in his palm, Michael forced out a small breath. Small fissures raced down his hand, across his whole arm, bleeding raw energy. Arrow gasped at the sight, and looked at him, fear evident on her face. Helpless against what was about to happen, he simply gathered what was left of his strength. He had to release the energy before it got worse, and threatened Sam. Above all, if he got captured, if he got killed for killing a Hero, it didn’t matter. No matter what, he had to save Sam.

So, he simply… let go.

It seemed his left arm just couldn’t contain the power.

Ears still ringing, fires still burning, smoke still choking the breath out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand. He had to find Sam. They had to get out of there. He didn’t see Arrow but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was dead or gone. Heroes had a nasty habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect them. Horrifically off balance without his left arm, he turned to try and get a glimpse of the wall Sam had been thrown into.

He stumbled around for what seemed like an eternity, coughing up who knows what, nearly falling every two steps, until he finally found a collapsed wall with a familiar glove sticking out of it.

“Sam!” Michael shouted, and collapsed near his fiancé. Sam’s eyes were closed, with blood trickling out of his mouth, head leaning to his left side. “Sam, come on, wake up, we gotta get outta here.”

Sam didn’t stir.

You’re gonna make me do it, huh?” Michael gasped, dread settling into his stomach. “Fine but you don’t get to yell at me when we get home.”

Still nothing.

“Black is the color of my true love’s hair,” Michael crooned. He wasn’t the best singer but Sam always loved it. Michael had never done it in public. It was their little secret. “His face so soft and wondrous fair, the purest eyes, and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands, I love the ground… C’mon Sam, wake up! Please wake up!”

He shook Sam by the shoulder, and Sam’s head rolled limply to the side.

Michael screamed.

The very same lamppost that he’d used to knock out Arrow was now embedded in his skull. Blood poured from the wound, slowly, as if the motion itself had no life left.

“Sam! Please, no, Sam, please don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” Michael screamed. “You can’t leave me here alone. Please, I love you, Sam, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please. You can’t be gone, you just can’t!”

“Phoenix, c’mon, you gotta get out of here.” A new voice said, tugging on his jacket. This one sounded young, and very, very scared. “You gotta move! They’re going to arrest you!”

He ignored her.

“Please, Phoenix, you’ve got to move! This is my fault, not yours. You can’t stay here!”

He whipped around, his left arm dead weight. There stood Arrow, covered in blood, bruises but with an unblemished face. She looked shell-shocked, as if unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Don’t die with him. Please.”

The “please” shattered what was left of his heart. A scream escaped his lips without conscious thought, a sound he never knew he could make, and he flung the broken-hearted shell of what used to be Michael Winters upon the chest of his dead love.

“No, I’m not letting you take the fall for this. This was my doing, not yours. We’re leaving now!”

With a strength Michael didn’t know was possible, Arrow lifted him under the arms and heaved. Michael, unexpectedly limp in her arms at first, lurched away from Sam.

“No! Don’t take me from him, please, he needs me, no, no!”

“I’m sorry!” Arrow shouted, but continued to haul him away.

Little fuchsia sparks flew past his fingers and out of his stump. “Stop! Let me go! Sam, I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sam, I promise! Let me go!”

He fought against her hold but she had leverage against him so all he could do was skid his feet along the road and try to elbow her as she dragged him away. He got in one good shot to her ribs, eliciting a hard cry. He went to aim for that same spot.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, then he felt a strong electrostatic charge and finally succumbed back down into the never-ending darkness.

Whumptober Day #1 “Shaky Hands”

Hey guys!!! I’m so excited for this month!  I’m gonna dedicate this one to @the-wandering-whumper because without darling Marie’s encouragement I never would’ve started this blog nor had the courage to do Whumptober.  So thanks hon, I appreciate you lots.  So enjoy some Lucifer and some shaky hands y’all.

Link to ao3 if ya wanna read it there!- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856719

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Whump-tober Day 1 - Shaky Hands

“you’re doing ok, uunffff, really, it’s gonna be fine”

The reply was something between a whimper and a laugh

“I should be telling you that.”

The tech pulled the last piece of shrapnel out of the medic’s chest and dropped the shred of metal on the dirt, their shaking hands nearly dropping the forceps in the process.

“Please don’t drop those! They’re barely clean as it is and you’ll need them for sutures. There’s a kit in the bag.” 

The medic lifted a shaky blood stained hand and feebly pointed towards the first aid backpack that lay next to a crew member who then pushed it towards the tech.

The backpack had been tossed aside when the tech skidded to a stop and dropped to their knees when the medic went down. The tech ripped the backpack off the medic’s back so they could push the the medic onto their back. The blast had thrown the medic face first into the dirt but not before embedding no less that 15 jagged fragments of hot metal into the medic’s chest. Usually kept out of the line of fire, the medic had forgone the kevlar vest and everyone was regretting it as they watched the tech play a high stakes game of Operation and pick shrapnel out of the medic’s pale sweaty chest. While several hands pressed down on the medic’s chest to stem the bleeding, it was quickly decided that if the tech’s hands were steady enough to defuse a bomb, they could pull shrapnel out of their medic’s body.

“No not-next to it-yes that one.” The tech pulled a box of curved needles and packets of suture thread out of a side pocket and ripped open a packet. Their hands were quivering so severely that they could barely thread the needle. “Come on, c’mon, you stupid sonofa- got it.” The relief of threading the needle momentarily soothed them as pressed their shaking hands into their thighs and dropped their chin towards their chest.

“I can’t do this, pulling out shit is one thing, but stitching you up…I clip wires, dismantle electronics-”

“Exactly, the medic sighed, you keep us alive, and that’s literally what you’re doing now. I trust you.” The medic laid their trembling hand over the medic’s and weakly squeezed it.

“You can do this. I need you to do this.”

@99point9percentwhump @whumptober2019