#gsw tw

[nerdpoe]

For an Op, Jason goes undercover at a college. He goes all out, actually signing up for classes and getting a dorm with a (shudder) roommate. Then he proceeds to have a nightmare during a thunderstorm and shoots the poor roommate.

He stares at Fenton.

Fenton stares back at him, wide eyed and shocked. Blood is starting to stain the front of his shirt.

"It's okay," Fenton says, voice strained as he clearly tries to stay calm. "It's okay, this isn't the worst thing I've had. I have a med kit in the closet, and I can do my own stitches; no one has to know."

Jason can't say anything. He's too busy staring at the blood.

It's red, until the lightning starts to fade and the glowing green flecks make themselves known.

He looks up into Fenton's eyes, and vibrant Lazarus green stares back at him.

He may have just found a bigger problem than pinning down the supplier of a new drug.

[whumping-to-conclusions]

Part Two to this post!

CW: medical whump, blood, brief mention of stitches

The door burst open as Hero rushed Sidekick into the apartment. Medic was sitting on a stool in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, staring into space. They started and set their cup on the counter.

“Here, here.” They ushered Hero to the living room, where a cot was set up, a lamp shining onto it. Stitches, gauze, soap, water, and bottles of pain meds were scattered on a table next to the cot.

Hero laid Sidekick on the cot, and Medic tore open their shirt.

Oh God, that’s a lot of blood. Even worse, the wound had taken on a bluish tinge similar to that of the bullet, and electric blue veins were beginning to spread around the wound.

Medic turned to Hero. “I’ll be honest―this is bad. Any idea of what kind of metal this is?”

Hero shrugged. “I dunno.”

Medic bit their lip. “I think we have to remove it. We run the risk of Sidekick bleeding out if the bullet’s by a large artery, but the metal’s poisoning them, by the looks of it. If we don’t remove it, they’ll die just the same." They turned to Hero. “Can you use your power to take it out? It’ll be quicker and more accurate than me doing it.”

The idea of pulling the bullet out of Sidekick made Hero’s stomach flip, but it was Sidekick’s life they were talking about. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

“They’ll need something to bite down on.” They took a strip of leather from the mess of medical supplies and stuffed it in Sidekick’s mouth. “This is going to be painful, but just try to breathe, okay?”

Sidekick let out a little whimper, but nodded. They looked terribly feverish―drenched in sweat, face flushed, eyes dull.

Medic glanced over at Hero. “On three.”

Hero raised their hands, feeling them heat as red waves of power started to flow from them.

“One…”

Hero swallowed down the sickness in their throat.

“Two...”

Hero shook out their wrists and exhaled, preparing themselves.

“Three!”

Hero clenched their fist. Sidekick screamed through their teeth as the bullet shot out of their torso, hitting the opposite wall of the apartment and dropping to the floor with a ping.

Black spots danced before Hero’s eyes, and a wave of dizziness overtook them. The room tilted. They sat down heavily on the couch as Medic started to clean the wound. They had to put their head between their knees to avoid blacking out. What’s happening? Using their power didn’t usually take this much energy.

“You okay?”

Hero lifted their head. “Sorry… just really tired.”

“Using your power doesn’t usually wear you out this much, does it?” Medic asked as they took the leather out of Sidekick’s mouth and started to dab at the wound in their abdomen. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be much bleeding.

“No,” Hero murmured. “Not usually. But it’s a weird bullet, like I said.”

The minutes ticked by as Hero watched Medic work their magic, stitching up Sidekick with rhythmic precision, the needle darting in and out again. Sidekick stared at the ceiling the whole while. As much as Hero wanted to watch Sidekick, to make sure they were okay, they found their eyes drooping.

Medic's voice cut through the grey buzz of exhaustion: “You look terrible. You should lay down.”

“Hm? Oh.” Hero’s eyes drifted over to Sidekick. “No. I need to stay with Sidekick.”

Medic looked down at them over the rims of their glasses. “I’ll stay with Sidekick, Hero. You should get some rest.”

“But―”

“No.” A different voice came, barely a croak. Sidekick had turned their head to face Hero. When Hero still looked unconvinced, they formed a watery smile. “I’ll be fine, Hero.”

Hero sighed. “You sure you’re okay? I can stay, if you like.”

“I’d like you to not wear yourself out,” Sidekick murmured. “Go rest.”

Medic smiled. “There’s a guest room off the kitchen. You can sleep in there for a while.”

Hero nodded and rose to their feet, swaying a little. They walked back to the kitchen, glancing back only once. Sidekick caught them looking and waved them on.

Hero turned back with a smile and walked through a door to a small, dim bedroom. As soon as they saw the bed, their whole body seemed to melt with the longing for rest. They curled up on the bed and within moments, they drifted into dreamless darkness.

[batstalked]

" i'm so... tired... " (Riley)

alternatively, send in " i'm so... tired... " for the sender to be the one losing consciousness in front of the receiver after sustaining severe injuries that threaten their life. for @normaltothemax

mugging wasn't exactly something that was uncommon in Gotham. Tim knew that better than anyone. no matter how much they tried to cut down on crime it never seemed to help. it was like the worst hydra ever. every criminal they put away or get the help that they needed it seemed like there were ten more that popped up to take their place. maybe it was a cry for help, but it was the worst way to do so.

normally Tim refuses to let her walk around Gotham after a certain hour. tonight however, he relents. and almost instantly regrets it. they hadn't gotten far from the restaurant that they'd been at for dinner before some man was stepping out of the shadows with a gun. Tim could appreciate sticking to the basics. at least until his hands are on Riley and then he's a little less inclined to play nice. unfortunately, he's currently 'just a civilian'.

reasoning seems to work on the guy for a little while. until stalling is no longer an option. Tim is more than happy to hand over his wallet and his watch and anything else the guy demands of him. unfortunately when he takes a moment too long to hand over his phone (in an attempt to activate his own coded security) the guy starts to get upset. stepping forward to try to give up his phone sees the mugger stepping back, dragging Riley with him.

it almost happens in slow motion, Tim tries to grab her hand when the mugger trips and they go backwards. there's no thought spared to the guy as he rolls them and scrambles to take off. no Tim is too concerned about the hole that now resided in Riley's side from where the bullet had torn through flesh after the gun went off when they fell. training kicks in almost instantly and sends him to his knees. tearing his jacket a little too easily, he presses the fabric to the wound.

there's no conscious thought about what he does next. calling 911 is easy, rattling off the necessary information before they assure him help is on the way. it will be, he thinks to himself. the next call is a little less easy to make. Alfred could direct anyone on the area to him, they'd have the necessary first aid to keep her from bleeding out.

"i'm so... tired.."

the words make his blood run cold. not good. he knows what Red Robin would say in this situation. but she doesn't need Red Robin. she needs Tim. and he was a lot less sure of what to say as himself.

"hey, no. none of that, okay? you're gonna be just fine, babe. there's so much help coming. you just gotta stay awake and talking to me, okay? tell me about the piece you're working on right now. tell me I'm an idiot. just keep talking to me, okay?"

[redwingedwhump]

For Riley:

26. Have they ever been seriously injured?

"I- um, I've never asked anyone about this, but one of my scars kinda looks like it might have been a bullet wound. The muscle there pulls and twinges sometimes. So, maybe."

[onyafevayuja]

Open Supergirl Starter

Anya had felt like a villain for so long, that she couldn’t remember what it was like not to be.  Her life had felt like one punishment after another, from Fort Rozz to pretending to be something she wasn’t.  But now, right now, she remembered what it felt like to be a hero.  To do good.  How much it hurt.  

But each painful beat of her heart was cathartic, even as it put her one step closer to death.  But...her heroics saved a life, and that was a price she would be willing to pay, thinking so even as her blood pulsed from the wound in her chest.  The kryptonite bullet had been intercepted by herself instead of carving it’s way through the person it had been intended for.  

And Rao, did it hurt.  She’d felt every fraction of an inch as it had carved it’s poisonous path into her body, lodging itself between a pair of vertebrae and sending pure agony racing from the base of her skull to the soles of her feet when she’d tried to get up.  And so she’d simply dropped to her back, allowing herself to contemplate in what she believed to be her last few moments as her blood slowly pooled around her

“Rao’s will be done,” she rasped out as she stared up into the clear sky where it was visible from the partially destroyed roof.

[onyafevayuja]

Goodbye.

meme || accepting

“I’m sorry, Rae.  We just arrived a call for some sort of domestic down in ghettoville, so I’m probably going to be a couple hours late tonight.  But I’m totally stoked for it.  Especially the look on gross couple 1 and 2′s faces when we tell them that I swindled you into marrying me.  And don’t forget to pick up booze.  I want to get all kinds of embarrassing pictures of everyone.  Okay, gotta go keep the peace and all that jazz.  I’ll see you at home, babe.  Love yo–” phone clatters to the ground amidst incomprehensible yelling.  Then gunfire.  A flurry of gunfire sounds through the speaker.  “–orrester?  Anya!  Shit!  Shots fired, officer down!  I repeat officer down!  Eyes open, Forrester! Anya?  Stay with me Anya!”

“Message length exceeded.  End of call.”

[onyafevayuja]

Closed Starter

meme || accepting

14.  My muse takes a bullet for yours.

Anya wished she could say she was surprised.  That this coup on the part of the Skaikru was entirely surprising.  But she’d watched them when they first arrived.  And the adults weren’t much better.  She, like all of the other generals, had kept an eye on the situation since the Skaikru massacred an army.  They weren’t stupid enough to think that the village that had nearly been lost would have held against that same force if it weren’t for Octavia.  

So when the order came to attack Arkadia and remove those warmongers from power, Anya was more than happy to lead the charge.  They’d used their heavy shields from the mountain to great effect before breaching their walls, and once inside, the battle was brutal, but quick.  Though, the last thing Anya had expected was for the one known as Pike to decide to take a cheap shot at the key to getting them into the walls: Octavia.  

Moving quickly as she saw warriors surge toward Pike, the general’s arm was thrown around Octavia and Anya repositioned them to force herself into the space between the young warrior and the now former Chancellor as the gun went off.  Hot lead tore itself through her light armor and into her body.  The force alone drove the air from her lungs before she wavered and collapsed like a puppet with it’s strings cut.  She could taste the copper tang of blood in her mouth and concluded that it must have at least hit a lung, not that it mattered.  It was close enough, the warrior knew she was most likely done for.  She could barely draw a breath, and the pain had her vision swimming.  

@gonaxtombom