One last one for the CPR awareness prompts.
This one's #14-Magic
The girl, Lark, is a poet who writes all her feelings in secret poems. So she's cursed to have her lungs fill with the ink of all her words, which she drowns in...multiple times.... many times :B..
ANYWAY thank you for everyone who participated!!
Thanks goes to
@saphicresus
@heimlich-heathen
@wol-vee
@severedfromthesource
@beatingheart-writingwoes
@pound-my-heart-make-it-start
@resusbunny
If you haven't checked them out, go see what they made! (And also if i missed your name and you made something please let me know so i can add you here)
Summary: Having a cardiac arrest in an escape pod that's too small is a bad idea. Batu was great at bad ideas. Semi-sequel to To Boldly Go Where We Shouldn't Go
This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid. Let's try to rip off some arms traders, totally a good idea. If Batu wasn't currently limp in his arms, Phantom-7 would have punched him. All it took to down the man was a particularly hard blow to the chest, and now the Exo was shoving his body into an exceptionally tiny escape pod and hoping it could fit him as well.
The pod slid shut and he braced himself as it shook, shooting off away from the impending danger. Phantom-7 tried to straighten, but winced when his head collided with the ceiling. The cockpit of the escape pod was too small for one person, let alone two. Batu laid in the seat, the Exo awkwardly straddled over him. He was almost ashen, eyes heavily lidded, and the emergency respiration unit was now clipped over his mouth and forcing breaths of air into him. An alert was ringing from his helmet: Cardiac arrest.
Phantom-7 braced his hands against the center of the other's chest and shoved. He didn't have good leverage and he had no choice but to bend his elbows with how small this space was, but was satisfied that he felt his chest sink under his palms. He kept going, pumping the too still chest of his captain.
Batu's shoulders pulled inwards and his stomach bounced. His head limply rolled and his arms swung off of the arm rests of the seat. Each thrust into his chest pushed a harsh wheeze from his lungs. The bones under his palms creaked in protest, cartilage popping in some spots. It was worth it to keep the other alive.
The helmet displayed a screen. He quickly put together that it was displaying an EKG. Each chest compression registered as a large mountain on the line. He paused, watching the line. It laid flat. He cursed loudly and resumed compressions.
There was a rhythmic tap as the captain's hands bumped against the metallic bits and bobs below the armrests. Suddenly the screen blinked and Phantom-7 paused. A sawtooth pattern rolled across the line and the helmet chattered at him to stand clear. The best he could do was press himself against the ceiling.
Two patches illuminated on Batu's suit, one under his right clavicle and the other under his left pectoral and to the side. The patches blinked and Batu's chest bucked. His arms swung up and towards his center, one hitting the Exo's thigh, then bonelessly slid back to hang off the chair. He watched the screen on the man's helmet and cursed when the stubborn sawtooth pattern remained. He remembered back with the poison incident how his heart was stubbornly staying a quivering mess that a second defibrillator needed to be used. He didn't have a second defibrillator.
Phantom-7 growled and continued to shove his palms into the compressions. Something snapped. He paid no mind to it, only noting that it was a bit easier to get the depth he needed. That was fine, though. His ribs healed from the last time, they would heal again. He felt the air enter his lungs, chest swelling under his palms before he crushed the air out with a harsh “huh” from the other.
Soon, the helmet called for him to stand clear again and he pressed himself to the ceiling. Batu's chest bucked again, arms again leaping towards his center. The line on the screen ran flat. This time one hand rested awkwardly in Batu's lap, moving against his stomach every time it pushed out as the Exo resumed his bone crushing compressions. His wheezes morphed into a moan and Phantom-7 stopped. The man's head moved of his own accord. The respiratory assist system was still forcing his chest to expand and deflate, but he didn’t seem to be fighting it. His eyes fluttered and blearily looked around. Phantom-7 took hold of either side of the helmet, making the man look at him.
“Are you with me?” He asked.
Batu gave a thumbs up, then clumsily tapped at his helmet where his mouth was. The Exo slud back his visor and carefully unclipped the system from his face and hooked a metallic digit around the tube still in his mouth.
“Cough.”
The man did his best to cough as the tube was slid out of his throat, gagging and sputtering before finally gasping the first independent breath he had taken in the past several minutes. He coughed again, folding forward and ending up burying his forehead into the Exo's shoulder as his body remembered how to breathe on its own.
“Fuck,” he croaked once the coughing fit subsided.
The Exo just wrapped his arms around him, staying there for a few moments. Then he spoke:
“I will fucking kill you myself if you do that again.”
Did not put a lot of effort into this one mainly cause I just don't really do sex/nudity, or at least don't have practice with it, but I still wanted to try.
