#Caught in an explosion

[whumpypepsigal]

The Brothers Sun s01e05: “Why don't we try resting? Come here.”

+bonus:

[aceofwhump]

Whumptober 2024 - No. 12 UNDERGROUND CAVERNS

Hawaii Five-0 10x02 Tani and Junior must plot an escape for themselves and several civilians after they become trapped inside a deadly tunnel collapse

@whumptober

[where-is-my-whump]

911 Lone Star 5x02

[whumpty-dumpty]

Bastille Day (2016)

[whumpookies]

Sipahi bölüm 2.

[whump-captain]

- Day 24 -

Prompt: Earth (Environmental Whump)

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

---

so! it took me a looooong time to come with an idea for this bc i really wanted to keep it in an urban setting and i. just could Not for the life of me think of anything lmao. it ended with explosions in the end and a side dish of blood loss but that's par for the course in my writing lol

---

CN: caught in an explosion, fire, smoke inhalation, impaled by debris, blood loss

---

It's a race. Against time for now, but the air grows thicker with every second and Cutter can smell the ozone gathering. His breath comes heavy and his bad leg is killing him but he keeps running. There are more than fifty air vents in the building. Each of them houses danger.

The thing in the vents, the wispy, half-alive being of air that sings in hisses, is angry. Elaine was halfway done banishing it when it noticed her presence and turned its swirling fury against the building it haunts. Every window Cutter passes is broken. The remains of glass shatter spontaneously, turning themselves into dust. The walls shudder. Something inside them is trying to get out.

Two more vents on this floor. In Cutter's hand there are five more cards, each bearing a hand-drawn expulsion circle: tight sigils and crossing lines around a downwards-pointing star. Most of Elaine's explanation of how they work has been beyond his knowledge but as long as it's her, he believes it.

The rest of the cards are with Joy, on the second floor. Elaine has tried to keep her out of this, pleading with her to stay in the lobby, where the expulsion is centered and where it's safe. Of course, there is no force on Earth that could keep Joy from helping. And time is short.

Cutter finds one of the vents in the boiler room. Heat crashes into him the second he opens the door and he staggers back. The air feels like wet cotton. The noise of machinery hums in his ears as he squeezes past the pipes to the square grate on the far wall. He slips a card through the slats. He can swear the smell of ozone gets worse.

He can tell the air-being is still occupied, locked in a battle of wills in the lobby. The awareness is almost physical, as if its attention was a persistent ache in the base of his neck, ready to flare up into burning if he's noticed. But there's only one more vent left. There won't be time for anything to go wrong.

It's just ahead, in a tight maintenance corridor outside the boiler room. Pipes enclose on it, disappearing around a corner, and a fuse box clings to the wall, rattling metallically with the walls' trembling. The vent is behind it, at waist height, obscured by a pile of collapsed plastic containers.

Cutter pushes away the first one when he hears a crack. Metal bending. He looks at the fuse box.

The boiler room explodes. The force rips the door off of its hinges and the walls erupt out. Cutter feels heat, then something slams into his chest. Then he's weightless. The shockwave throws him five metres back, the impact is like a flash of light. Then like darkness.

For what feels like forever, he can't move. He wants to cry out but he can't breathe, something white hot binds his ribcage. He's conscious, he sees the ceiling swaying and blackening above him, but it's like all thought has been knocked out of him along with the air from his lungs. The ringing in his ears is so loud it hurts. Everything else is impossibly distant.

His body reacts on its own. He convulses with the force of the first, involuntary gasp and reality snaps back around him. The air burns, the deafening roar of flames drowns out the shrill noise of breaking metal tanks. He barely hears his radio crack to life.

"Joy to Cutter, what the hell was that?!" Joy yells among the distortion. "Where-"

Elaine's voice cuts her off, pitched down by an electronic drone:

“It saw you. Hurry!”

"Shit," Cutter breathes, trying to get his splayed limbs together. The cards are gone. Panic lurches through him, he pushes up but his arm gives straight away. The floor burns his hands when he feels around it blindly, desperately.

The cards lay scattered only a few feet away. With a pained noise of effort, Cutter rolls onto his side and grabs for them. The paper has begun to curl. The air is so thick now he can barely breathe. It's like a thunderstorm contained within a single room.

There's no time to try and stand. He manages to get his elbows under him and, grabbing at the pipes for balance, he crawls towards the vent. Something stings his side with every motion but adrenaline burns the thought away. Smoke scratches his throat. He coughs, almost collapses again. It's right there. Arm's length.

The plastic boxes warp under his weight when he clambers up them, reaching. The vent's grate bends in his grip. He tears it off with a desperate yell and throws the cards inside.

There's a sound like a razor on glass and then the air pops. The ozone evaporates in an instant. It's replaced by the stench of smoke.

Cutter collapses, heaving painful breaths against the floor. His head reels from the noise, from the sudden change, and from whatever damage the explosion has done. He feels the heat now, hears the cracking of flames encroaching. He still needs to get out of there. The adrenaline has dissipated too, leaving his limbs heavy. He pushes himself up.

A stab of searing pain stops him and forces a short scream out of him. It spreads in waves, in time with his shivering, from a line of living fire in his side.

When he sees it, his stomach turns. A shard of bent metal, as big as his hand, is buried in his flesh, just below the last rib. His shirt is soaked through with blood and ripped to shreds where smaller pieces of debris have cut and stabbed it and opened more wounds. In a daze, Cutter sees the trail of blood smeared across the floor, where he has crawled. His own blood.

"Oh," he says shakily.

It's on his hands, on the boxes, everywhere. With the adrenaline gone, the pain is horrifying, it tears through him with every tiny motion. He can't help a raspy whimper as he curls around the injury, trembling fingers hovering over the metal shard. Instinct begs him to pull it out, to rid his body of this intrusion. Instead, he presses his hand tightly around it, onto the wound. The noise of the fire drowns out his long, shuddering groan.

He has to get out. Has to keep moving. There's no way he can stand up, it hurts too much. He grits his teeth and turns onto his back, gasping as the shard in his side shifts and cuts into muscle. With one hand, he heaves himself up to half-sitting. His head spins. He has to pause, shivering, as the pain builds, seizing his lungs until he's fighting to breathe. The smoke is suffocating.

He pushes with his legs, crawling backwards. His arm barely holds his weight. The fire has spilled from the boiler room now; deadly golden ribbons lick the walls, curling paint and scorching plastic. There's a door just around the corner, where the pipes lead. Cutter just has to make it there. Quiet, ragged sounds of pain keep escaping him on every exhale, every monstrous effort of gaining a foot away from the blaze. He feels the blood trickling between his fingers.

"We almost have it!" Joy's voice cracks through the radio. "Cutter, where are you?"

It takes him two tries to get a proper grip on the device. His hands are too slick with blood, sweat, and melted ink. He's let go of the wound, leaving the metal to jolt and twist through his flesh. He can't let himself collapse. He has to keep moving.

"Boiler room," he rasps into the microphone. "There's, ah- there's a fire."

His voice falters. A small impact shakes him, only a bump against a wall but enough to stoke the pain into an inferno again. He's at the corner. Only a few more meters.

"Shit, what happened?" Joy answers, as if from miles away. "Are you okay? Cutter?"

He can't respond. The radio hangs from his belt loop, scraping on the floor as he drags himself back. Everything is swaying now. The heat is like pressure on his skin, constricting.

When his arm buckles, he doesn't feel the fall. Just the blinding pain again that he has no more strength left to voice.

The corridor seems to darken. His vision goes next.

Then his consciousness.

The fire advances.

[critterbitter]

The Dreamyard’s the singed ruins of the once Pokemon Energy Labratory. About five years ago, this swath of land was left abandoned due to dangerous levels of psychic energy saturating the air. Today, it serves as a Munna and Musharina nest, and is slowly being reopen to the public as a conservation site.

Are the children in awe of the Dreamyard’s fridge horror history? Probably not. Are they enjoying themselves in the spooky abandoned ruins? Definitely.

Masterpost for more fun pokemon doodles!

[hyolks]

references!! subject to change bc character design is my death sentence. also some sillies bc is it really fma if ed doesnt get called short/kid at least once

[kizzer55555]

DPxDC: Jarro Adopts an Alien

Ok, so Danny has a space obsession and a protection obsession (I headcanon that as a halfa, Danny has two obsessions like all Halfas do which makes them unique to other ghosts.) and so while he can get his fill protecting people in Amity, he struggles with his space obsession. Sure, he can look up everything he can about space and the stars on the internet. He can stay up until 2 am looking at the stars (who needs sleep? He’s a ghost, he can go days, or even weeks without sleep if he wants, same with a lack of air or food.) but it’s just not enough. He craves to learn more, see more. Just as Dani gets that itch to travel, Danny wonders. What would it be like to see the stars up close? Are they really as hot as a dragons fire breath? Hotter!? Or maybe they are so hot they are cold. What does it look like to see plasma dancing across the surface, or touch the gasses of Jupiter? Does Pluto have ice caves like the far frozen? How many planets are actually out there? What about Mars. There’s a whole species living there with a language and culture Danny can’t even fathom! Oh what he wouldn’t give to talk with martian manhunter or Superman. 

And what’s stopping him from exploring this? He can fly. He doesn’t need air. He can go intangible if it gets too hot and he’s practically immune to the cold. He wants to touch a space rock! See if they are smooth because there is no wind or earth to rub against them and erode the surface. He wants to see what planets they come from. What minerals they might have. He wants to know if there are currents in space. All of these things are right there just above the atmosphere. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a quick peek. So he does. During a particularly bad day Danny flies as fast as he can until the earth’s gravity looses its effects. Until his hair is floating as of it’s in water even more than normal. Until he can feel when breathing no longer became a choice (still not necessary though). And it…was beautiful. To be surrounded by space. To see the earth like this. Pictures just didn’t do it Justice. He flew across the solar system and as he passed planets, he longed to fly through them. To search every crevice and learn their secrets. But he had a bigger prize in mind at the moment. The crown jewel of their universe. The closest star he could find. The sun. 

Danny was mesmerized. The plasma really did dance across the surface. Like a never ending performance of science and beauty. There were sparks that few in arcs. Danny flew down and played in them, making a game to see how many he could fly under. His ghost core purred in delight. His obsession had never been more satisfied. He spent hours out there. Just exploring what his solar system had to offer. So when he returned? He couldn’t just forget. Pictures and online science theories had nothing on the real thing. He wanted to explore some more. So he did. Every night he would go out and explore the cosmos. Flying from planet to planet. (Either the Martians were still around and Danny made friends with them, even learning their language, or he just looks at their ruins to learn as much as he can). And with both obsessions now being filled, Danny is more settled. More confident. And he can focus better. Everyone notices the change, even his teachers. They just think that he’s paying more attention to his education now. He’s even better during his ghost fights. 

But Danny can fly awfully fast. And he soaks up information even faster. Soon his trips take longer and longer as he flies further out. Sometimes he can barely make it back in time for school. And he can't go every night. Sometimes the ghosts won’t wait for daytime so he has to make sure the town will be safe in his absence. Although he’s been able to take more trips ever since Valerie joined the vigilante ranks. But still, he’s getting farther and farther from earth each night. Until one day he’s visited every planet, every star, every comet or debris in their solar system. Which would be fine. He could deal with that if that was all there was. But it wasn’t. Danny saw the stars just out of reach. He saw places the Milky Way was leaning towards. He saw just the barest hints of new solar systems with new planets and stars. And he knew of legends from lanterns that they had posted online. Heard tales from some scientists that have made better telescopes. And his core itches. It aches to know more. See more. Yet he can't go further. And this puts him in a sort of depression. Suddenly he’s back to his old self. Lagging behind. Distracted. Zoning out. Crashing into a few more buildings during ghost attacks. Yet he tries so hard to be satisfied with what he has. He can still fulfill his obsession…it’s just more like chewing on a granola bar rather than eating a decent meal. He’s almost becoming lethargic. 

So one day he goes to Frostbite to see if there’s anything he can do to lessen the effects. But the yeti just takes one look at him and gives him the infimap. And suddenly Danny is in a whole new universe in seconds. The planets are purple. The stars are blue. He’s pretty sure there are furry blob-like creatures living on one of those planets. And suddenly he gets that itch, but holding the infimap, he knows he had time, so he lets himself go. 

And for a while it’s good. great even. Since he can’t keep asking the yetis for the infimap, he goes over to Wulf to see if he’s up for an adventure. Most of the time he is and they go exploring the galaxies together. And then Wulf had the genius idea of teaching Danny how to make portals. It took a long time but soon, he could concentrate the surrounding ectoplasm enough to weaken it and pull. It took a while since Danny didn’t have ecto claws and would have to use his pure will. But this would allow him to follow his obsession anytime, anywhere. So it was only a matter of time. And once he figured it out? It was like something was unlocked. Danny had never before understood how Ellie could travel so much. But now he did. That feeling when you discover something new. When you add to your reservoir of knowledge. When the patterns in the universe just click. There is nothing Danny could compare it to. And to explore that whenever he wanted? It was so freeing. While Wulf sometimes still joined Danny’s adventures, Danny did most of his explorations by himself. 

He meets various planets and aliens. So many different cultures. He learns thousands of languages. Tries all kinds of foods (and it’s a good thing his ghost self has an iron stomach and he’s basically poison resistant.) even found a whole comet where blood blossoms grew. (Which he most definitely avoided). And wasn’t that fascinating? To find out they were from space. 

And then during his travels one day he met a space alien starfish. 

It was actually a funny story. A meteor shower was about to attack a planet of talking blue monkey creatures with 4 arms. Danny immediately started diverting them and was soon joined by some lantern corps (which his inner fanboy wanted to talk to so bad.). And a tiny starfish in a…Robin uniform? Oh and the starfish could apparently do martial arts which was interesting to watch him karate chop a meteor. He could also talk directly into Danny’s head which the halfa found more interesting. So they got to talking and apparently his name was Jarro. He seemed to be helping the lantern corps as a ‘proxy from earth’ to make better use of his skills. 

Danny would run into Jarro a few more times. Sometimes he was with Lanterns and sometimes he would just be exploring the galaxies. They started forming a pretty strong friendship and Danny would start seeking out the starfish alien to travel with him. He knew all kinds of space facts. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. When they explored, sometimes Jarro would just stick to part of Danny. Wrapped around his arm, his waist, sometimes just sticking to his back like a strange backpack. But they always had fun.

So Danny was happy. He could fulfill both obsessions and got a space pal. Everything was great!

Until the GIW caught him. 

It would probably be the worst day of his life.  There was an explosion in the lab. Something set up by them after they realized Danny frequented that place often. So they set a trap and blew it up. Thankfully, Jazz was at college during this but both his parents were home. When the explosion went off, Danny had tried putting a Barrier around them all. It took everything he had to maintain it. That’s how they found out he was phantom. Danny had a few moments where his parents said they accepted him but he couldn’t hold the barrier for long. His parents said that they loved him and then everything went green. He woke up in a lab, tired and injured. His only saving grace being that he remained in phantom form. And he was determined to remain so. 

Danny’s time at the GIW was a haze but eventually, he managed to escape. Bleeding, and tired, and still recovering from the burns in the explosion, Danny made a portal straight to Amity. Only when he got there, it was a ghost town. Streets were empty, buildings were boarded up. Even the Nasty Burger was deserted. As for his house, there was nothing but a crater left and some scattered debris. Danny looked everywhere but there was no one. No Jazz. No Sam. No Tucker. No one. and he was tired. And everything hurt, and he needed a friend. Someone he could trust. So in a daze he made a portal and tried to just project safe. Safe safe safe. Somewhere he knew he would be protected. And so Jarro got a surprise when his space buddy suddenly popped out of a green portal, bleeding green and clearly passed out. He didn't know what to do. He didn’t know how to help him. But Jarro knew someone who would. 

So with a speed never before seen from a tiny starfish, he flew to earth. Bringing his friend straight to his father. Because surely batman could help!

And with his appearance, the green blood, the knowledge of space facts. The lack of wanting to talk about where he came from (and the nightmares crying out for his parents). This is how the bats became convinced that Jarro brought them an injured alien. 

[thatstomorrowsproblem]

DPxDC A Boy and His Pit Demon

Danny 

The world was green, green, green. Green beans, bean soup, Soup Time. Soupy, soupy Soup Time. 

Would Soup Time hurt now? 

Most things hurt now, because he was broken, broken, broken, but not the green. Green, green, green. 

Green isle, green sky, green eye, green soup. 

He paused. 

Green, green soup. He liked green, and he liked soup, but maybe he didn’t like green soup. 

“No eggs, just soup. I am not Sam, I am not.” He giggled quietly at the thought of amethyst eyes encircled with black and purple paint and approached the lake of green. 

It smelled like Soup had been left out in the sun to rot.

“Hot rot, hot rot.”  

He laid a clawed hand over his icy chest. Food was mean. Sometimes, food fought back. 

Food fights, fighting food, union fight, fighting Soup? Hot-rot green soup. 

He was so hungry, but hot was bad.  

Ice core, hot sore, hot-rot soup. 

He was already so broken, broken, broken, and green was good. 

The hot-rot soup was hot, and he was ice, but it wasn’t fighting back, and it might be nice. 

What did he have to lose? Lost friends, lost home, lost mind, lost all, found Soup. 

He liked green. 

He hummed happily before diving headfirst into a pit of rancid, fetid ectoplasm leaving the Infinite Realms behind. 

Damian 

Damian was nine years old, but that wouldn’t stop him from being the best the League had ever seen. 

He was almost there already, of course. 

He’d even won a fight against his mother once.  

Of course, Damian had set many traps on the battlefield in advance, but it was only proper to use every tool that one had on hand. 

Damian moved smoothly through his training stances, clearing his mind of all thoughts except executing his actions flawlessly. 

He had perfected them years ago, of course. He was not a baby, and he’d been practicing with the blade since he was four. It was important to keep all of your weapons, sharp, however, and ones own skills are the most valuable weapons. 

He often practiced near his grandfather’s pools.  

It was a place where few had permission to go unless accompanying his grandfather, after all, and the soft green glow was pleasant to be near. 

It could be dangerous, of course, but Damian was not so foolish as to risk falling in while healthy. 

A sound caught Damian’s attention, breaking him out of his fluid routine. 

His head whipped towards the Lazarus Waters which had begin to froth and bubble violently. 

Damian had never seen such a reaction before, but he’d heard from others what it meant. 

Rarely, perhaps once every five decades or so, a demon would rise from the pits. 

There was nothing even the best trained assassin could do against them. 

They were strong, fast, unkillable, and the only thing you could do if one set its sights on you was pray for a quick death. 

Damian straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, readying his blade. If he were to die, he would do so with his pride and strength in place. 

He only had to wait a few moments before a nightmarish head rose from the boiling pool. 

It was blacker than night, seeming to suck the luminescence from the waters around it. Its eyes were slitted, with sclera the same toxic green as the pool’s waters. Its mouth was a nightmare of serrated fangs bared in the parody of a smile. 

Damian raised his chin defiantly to death. “You do not belong here. These are my grandfather’s pools.” 

The demon’s head tilted far past what any human would be capable of, and it let out a low, static-filled hiss. “Hungry, hungry. Play, play?” 

Damian gritted his teeth. He had never heard of a pit demon ever speaking before, and the thought of it wanting to play with its food before it ate him brought him nothing but anger. 

If he were to die, he was going to do so with dignity. 

Damian sniffed. “No. One does not play with their food.” 

The creature let out another awful sound like lightning or a windstorm before its gruesome maw stretched even wider. “Fight food.” 

Damian took a deep breath before he let it our slowly and pointed his sword at the creature. “Then let us fight.” 

The creature rose slowly from the water, revealing a small, thin body, but Damian knew that size mattered little when it came to the power of a pit demon.  

It was almost human in the same way that his mother could be called almost nice. 

It had a head, a body, two arms, and two legs. 

However, its limbs were too long. Each of its hands had five skeletal fingers each ending in a razor-sharp blade. Its thin legs had an extra joint, and its stance hurt Damian’s spine just to look at as it floated above the pool dripping toxic water that could kill or poison the living. 

“Fight,” it growled in a voice filled with the cackle of a broken League communicator. 

It did not try and dodge or evade as it spend towards him, claws outstretched, and Damian thought he might get at least one good hit in before he died. 

Damian’s blow struck true, right at the demon’s center of mass, but it didn’t slow its momentum in the slightest, and Damian barely had time to get out of its reach before its claws could impale him. 

He spun quickly, keeping the creature in his sights as it turned on the ground, back arching like a cat about to pounce. 

There was no wound where Damian’s blade had struck, only smooth black skin, darker than night. 

Damian growled. 

It was still playing with him. Still making a fool of Damian, even in his last moments of life. 

Damian shrieked, darting forward and aiming a blade at the pit demon’s heels. 

If he could injure it somewhere delicate, maybe it would retreat back into the waters. 

The monster laughed, unnaturally twisting its legs out of reach and back into the air without a thought for the limitations of gravity or basic anatomy. 

Damian pivoted, slicing upwards at the beast’s exposed face, but the being only caught the sword in its bare hand. 

Damian had a solid grip on his sword. 

One of the first things he’d learned, mastered before the age of five, was how to keep a firm grip on his weapon while maintaining enough flexibility for rapid movement. 

The moment the creature wrapped his hand around the weapon, however, it was as if his favorite blade was as insubstantial as a cloud, and it went through Damian’s hand in an instant. 

The demon laughed its monstrous laugh again, tossing the beautifully forged custom blade behind itself as if it were a common stick. 

Damian knew he would die from the second he’d seen the pit demon emerge, but it was worse to know how insignificant of a threat he posed. 

With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed and threw a poisoned dagger at the creature. It whizzed between its eyes, and the creature turned its sharp smile to watch the blade sail away. 

It wasn’t fair! 

The creature dropped to the ground in front of Damian, assuming the deplorable fighting stance of a seasoned street brawler, and Damian brought his own fists up at the ready. 

If this monster was going to toy with him like a cat with a mouse, if it liked to play with its food, Damian would be sure to win at least one game. 

The pit demon was even smaller on the ground, barely reaching Damian’s own chest, and Damian grinned savagely. 

He never got the chance to fight someone smaller than himself. 

In a quick movement, Damian darted forward, aiming a blow at the demon’s shoulder. 

Damian wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the fact that his attack had landed, or the fact that the creature hadn’t moved a single centimeter from the force. 

Damian ignored the stinging in his fist and decided to count it as a win. He’d never heard of anyone ever landing even a glancing blow against a pit demon, not even when a dozen of Grandfather’s best had been fighting one together. 

The demon threw a half-trained punch at Damian, and he stepped to the side to grab its wrist, hoping he could use the momentum against it and throw it to the ground, but his hand passed through the creatures arm as if it wasn’t there at all. 

With the distraction, Damian almost didn’t notice its other hand whipping out, and Damian could do nothing as the monster hit his diaphragm with enough force to knock the air from his lungs and send him tumbling backward to the ground. 

He heaved in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the killing blow to land. 

He had fought well and landed a hit against the untouchable. 

A soft weight settled against his chest, and Damian’s eyes flew open. 

The pit demon had settled on top of his chest. “Brave, brave, boy. Fights well, so young. Good fight.” 

Damian shuttered at the being's sharp fangs so close to him, but tried to take pride in knowing that even a true pit demon thought him a worthy fighter. 

His mother and grandfather might never know, but Damian knew that he had done his position as Heir to the Demon proud. 

The creature moved its face toward Damian’s exposed throat, and he prayed for a swift death. 

The creature nuzzled the underside of his chin before growing limp and beginning to hum softly. 

Damian froze in confusion. 

The pit demon’s mass shifted, black body becoming almost like a liquid as it pooled around his neck and over his chest. “Good boy, good fight, like boy.” 

Damian knew he shouldn’t provoke the pit demon. He knew that. However, he had already played the monster’s game and wouldn’t sit passively until it decided it was ready. 

That was one indignity too far. 

“Are you not going to eat me now?” 

“Eat!” The pit demon screeched, purring hum coming to a sudden stop. “Fight food, fight boy, eat food, like boy. Boy fight, I fight, like boy, eat soup.” 

Damian swallowed. The pit demon spoke English, and Damian was fluent in the language. He was not as sure that the pit demon was fluent, however, with how little sense it was making. 

“In return for sparing my life, you would like soup?” Damian tried, furrowing his eyebrows. 

A hand reemerged from the black mass that was the pit demon, and a clawed finger pointed at the Lazarus Waters. “Ate Soup, green Soup. Sam I am not.” 

Damian didn’t know how not being named Samuel was related to drinking Lazarus Waters, but that was irrelevant to the small, absurd hope rising in his chest. “You are satiated after consuming my grandfather’s… soup, and you have no plans on eating me?” 

The demon wheezed out another crackling laugh and patted his cheek. “Funny boy, funny soup, like boy, keep boy.” 

Its sharp hand melted back into its body, and it resumed purring. 

Damian’s mind raced at the implications. 

He had fought a pit demon, he had landed a blow and impressed the creature, and it seemed that it planned on staying. 

Damian had– He had been the first to impress a demon with his fighting prowess, and he seemed to have won its loyalty. 

He had always known he was destined for greatness, of course, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this as a possibility. 

Damian laid a hand carefully on top of the purring monster on his chest. “If you are not Samuel, then what may I call you?” 

The demon rumbled and hummed, pressing itself into Damian’s hand. “I am P4NT0M, I am Dan, I am not Dan. I am Phantom. I am Danny.” 

Damian wrinkled his nose. Most of those names were unacceptable, but he supposed that he could make due. “Phantom, then. Welcome to Nanda Parbat. I am Damian al Ghul, grandson of Ra's al Ghul.” 

The creature purred more loudly, and Damian ran a hand along the monster’s cold brow. 

Damian grinned and sat up, cradling the black purring mass against his chest. 

He was Damian al Ghul, first of the League of Assassins to ever earn the respect of a Pit Demon. 

He would also be the first to tame a pit demon. 

[zoethehead]

I might try redoing this scene differently, although it doesn't focus on the main 2. Rather, it focuses on Antoni, a Crimson Saint who rebels against Romulus, and that ends with the armor self destruction, which injures Antoni

Caught in a blast

(a lil' scene I made up for later in my series)

-

All Wulf saw was a fiery hot white light, and nothing more than smoke, rubble, ashes, and flames. And the worried face of Chalakon. The voice of his boyfriend seemed to be muffled. Soon; Wulf could no longer hold onto consciousness, feeling his grasp slowly slip out of his hand….. Soon, he plummeted into the darkness yet again. 

-

-

-

-

His head hurt, his body ached, and his memories were of those that weren’t pleasant.

But…. he was starting to stir. 

He let out a slight groan of pain, his body started to move again, and he grasped at the sheets below his fingers. He opened his eyes, seeing a blurry figure sitting vigil next to him. It wasn’t Chalakon though, it was a different being; one with silvery hair and grayish-blue skin. He felt a cold wash rag being placed on his head, and soon heard a voice. 

“Drink up, young man.” this voice said. 

He felt a basin bowl touch his lips, he drank the liquid, reluctant to do so…. The liquid tasted somewhat like a mix of different herbs, somewhat sweet, but also quite bitter. He coughed a bit after the medicine was down his throat. 

“Easy there, you've been out for a while.” the voice said, setting the basin down. “How long was I out for?” Wulf rasped. “I honestly lost track of time, but from what I see, it’s been about 2 weeks.” The stranger said. 

Wulf sat up abruptly, “2 WEEKS?” He yelled, before doubling over in pain. “Easy does it, son.” the being said, gently laying Wulf back down onto the bed. Wulf saw the bandages wrapped around every afflicted area. “You were badly burned and lying in a ditch when I found you. It was quite a hassle to tend to your injuries, but I did what I could.” the stranger explained. Wulf’s vision cleared up enough as the pain dulled, the being by his bedside was a Nuross, and one that seemed to be an elder. “Name’s Ernwid, Ernwid Agurac.” Ernwid said. “W-where is he?” Wulf asked. “Who are you referring to?” Ernwid questioned. “M-my boyfriend; Chalakon.” Wulf sighed. “Oh, so you’re his boyfriend, no wonder the Drazupians kidnapped him.” Ernwid explained. “Hold on, WHAT?” Wulf yelled.  "Yeah, they kidnapped him as a sort of Trophy for the Almawhatever, I forgot their name.” Ernwid sighed. “THE ALMAGIS?” Wulf yelled. “Yeah, them. Those rascals tied him up before knocking him out and tossing him into a cage wagon.” Ernwid explained. “Fuck! This is bad!” Wulf panicked. “I’m barely even in good condition right now, and my boyfriend's been kidnapped by creatures that work for the organization that I’ve been trying to bring down for years!” Wulf worried, trying to get up, but Ernwid pushed him back down. “Son, you need to at least rest and recover first before you get up and go trying to hunt the Almagis down again.” Ernwid sighed. Wulf sighed, rolling onto his side and wrapping the blanket around him. “Fine, But as soon as I’m well, I will try to find Chalakon.” Wulf sighed. “Good to know, I’ll help gather up a crew to help you as well.” Ernwid said.

[aceofwhump]

Torchwood 2x12 "Fragments"

[whumpty-dumpty]

Nikita S03E09 (Survival Instincts)

[findafight]

Why must a ship be “groundbreaking”? Is it not enough for two girls to be cute and laugh together while making sandwiches to help their community?

[faecaptainofdreams]

“Reclaimer…?

Reclaimer, are you here?

Construct?

Please, do not give up on me.

I wish to right my wrongs.

The void around me is deafening; I cannot see.

There was…light, and heat, and the force of gravity surging through my circuits until I broke.

I remember…

I remember myself, I remember…Chakas…

I am Chakas…

I am 343 Guilty Spark.

Can anyone hear me…?

Are these pleas only in my mind?

I cannot engage my sensory processors; all I feel is suspension, so I must be adrift in space.

I am alone.

I am…afraid.

This is not peace, this is not relief.

Please do not let me pine here for eternity, trapped with my trauma and my memories, and yet another dead vessel.

Won’t someone, anyone, please find me…?”