#its like a countdown timer to the next goodbye

[racingmiku2018]

i think ill spend the entire rest of my life grieving

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #8

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction, posted daily and usually written with the intention of being terrible… in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

With a light puff of foundation, Agent Leeds revealed the laser beams floating in the air. This security would be child’s play. She stretched herself, arching her back and then bending over, to make sure she was as flexible as possible, and leapt into the web of red, expertly dodging every single crimson photon in the air.

She landed at the other end and cracked her knuckles just to show off. She tapped her earpiece.

“I’m past the first layer. What’s our ETA?”

A raspy voice replied. “We are at t-minus two minutes remaining on the detonator. There’s no time to waste.”

Leeds looked to the floor and found a ventilation duct. “Good news.” She kicked the vent cover, warping it and popping it out of its place. “I found a shortcut.”

She crawled inside and looked down through a ceiling vent into the command room. There was only one guard standing there overlooking the countdown that ticked away on the massive screens on the opposing wall. This would be too easy.

In one fell swoop, Agent Leeds swung down from the ceiling and knocked the guard out with the heavy vent cover, still managing to land on the tips of her three-inch heels (she wore them just for the extra challenge). With a calm and confident gait, she approached the instrument panel and hit the red button with one minute and fifteen seconds remaining. But instead of stopping the timer, the red button swung open a small door on the wall behind her. She turned around and shrieked.

It was a telephone.

“Agent Forty-Two, what’s happening?” Asked the voice in her ear.

She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled. “There is a telephone in here and the timer is still ticking down.”

“Yes, that’s right, nothing to worry about. All you have to do is pick up the phone and make a call to disarm the bomb.”

“No one told me about this?!?”

“It’s very simple, agent Forty-Two, but you do have to hurry as the timer is continuing to count down -”

“What am I supposed to say when they pick up on the other end?” She asked, her voice shaking.

“Don’t worry about that right now, you need to go pick up that phone.”

“What if they’re out to lunch? What do I do then?!? Am I supposed to leave a message?!?”

“I assure you no one is out to lunch within the next fifty seconds, but there will be an entire continent of barbecued people if you don’t make that call!”

“This is a lot of pressure!” She yelled.

“Pick up the damn phone, Forty-Two!”

Leeds paced back and forth, wailing and shaking her hands with loose wrists to try and trick them into picking up the handset. Eventually, she lunged for it and brought it to her ear.

“Hello,” the ‘friendly’ voice on the line said. “Thank you for calling World Domination Limited. Please listen carefully, as the following options have changed.”

“It’s a phone tree!” She whispered to the voice in her ear.

“Just play along!”

“If you’d like to file a complaint, please press one.”

“That’s it, right? A complaint?”

“No, no, there might be something more specific. Keep listening.”

“If you’re calling about a billing inquiry, press three.”

“Wait, what was two?”

“There was no two. Evil company, remember? Focus!”

“If you’re interested in filing a job application, please visit our website at http-colon-slash-slash World Domination Limited dot org.”

“They should never have been granted a dot org domain!”

“Shut up, Forty-Two!”

“If you’d like to hear the previous options again, please press two.”

“I think I should press one, right?”

“That seems like the most reasonable option at this point.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your response. Goodbye.” A dial tone came through the speaker.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Just call them again!”

“What’s the number?”

“Just put it back on the hook and pick it up again! We don’t have much time!”

She did as told and the system on the other end picked up the call again. “Hello. Thank you for calling World Domination Limited. Please listen carefully, as the following options have changed.”

Leeds quickly pressed one.

“I’m sorry, that was an invalid selection. Please listen carefully, as the following options have changed.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Twenty seconds, Forty-Two!”

“If you’d like to prevent a nuclear blast, please press three.”

She quickly pressed three, and the system responded.

“Please hold. A representative will be with you shortly.” Hold music began playing - a bit-crushed version of the latest Kid Rock single. After a few seconds, it paused, giving Leeds the hope that maybe she’d finally gotten ahold of someone. “You are now first in this queue. Did you know? World Domination Limited was founded by the two Ignobel brothers in 1939. They disagreed on the direction of the company and split ways, but when WDL went public on the New York Stock Exchange, Doctor Buster “Busty” Ignobel seized control with a hostile takeover and has been our CEO ever since. Thank you for holding. A representative will be with you shortly.”

“Ten seconds!”

“I’m doing my best, Richard!”

The hold music went silent again.

“Hello! Hello?!?”

The busy signal screamed into her ear and was quickly replaced with the dial tone.

“What do I do?!?” Leeds screamed at Richard. “What do I do?!?”

“Uh… we could try the website?”

And with that, the countdown hit zero. A thousand nuclear warheads were launched into the air, and in minutes they would touch down, destroying an entire continent. On the bright side, it was the least populous continent. Less convenient was that the continent in question was Antarctica. Glaciers melted on impact and flooded the world with tidal waves, leading to the excruciating deaths of 66% of humanity. World Domination Limited’s stock price jumped fifteen points.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

"Attention players!" The voice follows you everywhere without fail, without deterrent, without remorse. "The first player to complete the latest version of the main storyline within the next 9 days will win a special prize and a new premium avatar."

Your heart drops into your stomach like a poor soul through thin ice.

You aren't listening to the PA system anymore, even though its horrible speaker mouth is hovering ominously a few feet away from you. 

Your head is on the table, eyes wide and unblinking as your brain fills with panicked static.

A special prize. 

You can hear folks behind you muttering with excitement about what a 'premium avatar' might be.

Players are already jumping up and forming parties, you can hear the little 'friend acquired' chime play over and over and the crowd starts to filter out of the tavern.

TigerHorse looks on with his permanently bored expression, wiping out a milkshake glass. 

Soon the squeak… squeak… squeak… of damp rag on dirty glass is the sound left.

There is a string where your soul should be and something is tugging on it, running their fingers along it in an attempt to get you to follow. 

Something tells you that you have no choice. 

That the clock is ticking. 

The universe holds her breath in anticipation. 

Get up.

Your rootbeer float goes untouched and ignored, ice cream quickly melting into the flattening soda. The rootbeer you make at home is better, you can tell even without tasting this one.  

You miss food.

REAL food. 

Miss eating, sleeping, the feel of soil beneath your feet and flesh between your teeth.

This place is hell. 

Your chair squeals across the tavern floor as you stand and slap a handful of Marbles onto the bar in front of TigerHorse, "Something tells me that this is goodbye." He drawls, picking up another filthy glass to clean. 

You don't respond, you just shuffle out that open door and back into the server select room. 

It's crowded, more than usual.

Players are pouring out of their own private spaces throughout the game to find their friends and team up for the oncoming journey. 

Before them all is a door, it stands at the height of a grown man making it truly massive compared to the average height of a normal player. 

The door is wooden, wrapped in thick black chains that drip and squirm like living things.

Holding the chains in place is a black rabbit's head, the chains pouring from the creature's open mouth. Its teeth are cat-like and sharp, its eyes are white and unseeing. 

The animal is entirely too photorealistic for your liking. It clashes with the game's cartoony art style in ways that fill your guts with some new and unnamable kind of dread.

Above the rabbit's head is a countdown in bright white numbers that loop around on themselves and glow like a halo.

The clock is ticking. 

More players trickle in, sitting on stoops or lingering in doorways to save room on the ground floor. 

Your friends wave to you from somewhere up higher and it takes you awhile to reach them, the four of you loiter in silence and watch the timer tick down

5

Down

4

Down

3

Down

2

Down

1

The rabbit's jaws snap shut, severing the chains cleanly. The door doesn't swing open, instead it dissolves into splinters and ash as if those chains were the only thing holding it together. 

Behind the door is a set of teeth.

Like an up close and personal shot of someone's mouth minus the lips, just over a dozen massive yellowing teeth set in black gums.

Slowly, they slide open, with ropes of black ichor dangling between them like spittle. 

A rush of warm moist air flows from the darkness beyond and brings with it the smell of rotting vegetation, damp places, and spilled blood. 

For a second, nobody moves. 

The crowd just stares at the abyss, as if waiting for it to blink.

Some unlucky idiot gets shoved forward and into the darkness with a yelp.

Nobody moves again until that player pokes his head out and says he's ok. 

The crowd seethes forward without hesitation, carrying innocent bystanders along in the current until the room is almost empty again. 

You and your friends share a wordless glance and follow the last of the stragglers into the void.

The teeth door slams shut behind you.

You don't bother turning around, scratching or banging or screaming for help.

There's no turning back now.

Not for you.

Not for anyone. 

Not anymore. 

The tunnel narrows, becoming shadow and soil. 

The walls are littered with doors of every shape and size. Some rattle, some slam shut as you approach. 

Some are bound in those same black chains, puddles of sickness oozing from their frames.

Overhead are slivers of light, interrupted by footsteps and shuffling. The undersides of floorboards, full of cracks where things can fall into this false rendition of the Corridors. 

Players hurry along, casting lights to see by and chattering amongst themselves like this is all normal. 

It is, to them.

To some people, this is still a fun game to play with friends.

It never stopped being fun, even when things got dark and dangerous. 

You hate them for it, you think. 

For being happy when you're not, for being able to log out and go home when this is all over.

It's 

Not

Fair

You must have had your face screwed up or something, cuz Eddie puts her paw on your shoulder and asks you if you're OK.

You're not, you've never been ok a day in your life and you have no plans to start being ok any time soon.

But you don't tell her that.

You just smile and nod, "Little nervous I guess." You force a laugh. 

It doesn't sound like you, not really.

Your real laugh is distinctly artificial, something that sounds prerecorded and heavily compressed like a bad midi file in an old point and click game from the early 2000s. 

Sharp and oddly nostalgic.

The sounds this body makes are too warm and organic for your liking, like it's somehow stripping you away layer by layer until there's no you left.

It's maddening.

You've spent so long trying to be comfortable and happy in your own skin and this game comes and rips everything away.

You can't look in mirrors anymore. 

You haven't been this dysphoric in years.

You feel like you're falling head first back into that 'aw! a cute wittle bunny' phase of your life where nobody took you seriously. 

You want to go home and be sharp and ugly and artificial again. 

You want to eat and scream and sleep and sink into the soil and stay there until the spring comes.

The tunnel ends at another door, thrown wide by previous players. Beyond it is a forest of towering birch trees, their trademark eyespot markings are real and weeping. 

They stare at you as you pass.

Ropes hang from their branches and creak in the breeze.

Each one is a noose.

Some are occupied by toys.

Dead and swaying like puppets on their strings. 

…toys don't breathe, so nooses shouldn't really work… right?

Eddie lets out a strangled cry and everybody around you stops.

She's pointing a shaking finger into the trees.

From a noose hangs a toy.

A stuffed dog with big button eyes and one of those warm :3 expressions.

You can tell by the design that… this isn't some nameless npc, or a generic filler design. 

This is a player's avatar, still clutching an oversized pair of scissors in one hand.

It's then that you notice the silence. 

There had been a crowd of at least a hundred other players in front of you.

So where did they all go?

[hale-13]

Zero Days Without Incident

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance

The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.

Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Stabbing

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.

It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.

A scream sounded in the distance.

“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”

“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.

“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.

“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”

“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”

The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”

“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.

They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!’.

“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”

“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”

“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”

“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.

“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…

“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.

“Or something,” Peter agreed.

“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”

“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.

“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.

“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”

The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.

“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”

“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”

“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”

“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”

“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.

“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.

Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”

“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.

“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”

“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.

“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.

“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.

——————————————

“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.

“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”

“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.

“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.

[watchtower-feed]

Shoulds and Coulds

SSA AU ✧ Damian Wayne ✧ Timer

Notes: This is my favorite trope hybrid. Does a lot of emotional damage. I also wanted to move away from Y/N-centric narrative and try the soulmate’s POV.

Words: 3,615

          When you live in a world full of superheroes, there are worst things than meta human villains, invading aliens, and psychotic clowns. One of them is having a soulmate.

          Some say it’s better because your other half is easier to find, but they’re not the one who has a hero or a villain for a soulmate. You do

     Damian Wayne was raised to believe in destiny. That it’s his fate to one day lead the League of Assassins and continue to change the world for the better. Talia would talk of his future feats while massaging the glowing numbers on his arm. As a young boy, he’s noticed how his mother would always avoid looking at his timer.

     But destiny proved to have its own plans when Slade attacked the League and murdered his grandfather in front of him. His mother safely stole him away and brought him to his father. When she whispered her bittersweet goodbye, she kissed his timer for a long time. And it was the last time he ever saw her.

     His father and Alfred dedicated a grave to Talia in the family cemetery, a few meters away from Bruce’s own parents. There was no body beneath the ground but Damian had no trouble shedding tears on the gravestone etched with her name.

     Damian Wayne was then raised in a family where his choices decided his fate and those around him. Every split decision in a fight could lead to injury or death. Every word uttered turned arguments into thirst for blood. There's no way of knowing what will happen until it does.

     Every action he makes, consequences follow. Nothing is given freely and nothing is asked of him. Suddenly, he no longer has a clear destiny.

     But when he looks at the changing numbers on his arm, the inevitable countdown that comforts his loneliness, he’s still sure of one thing. No matter what happens, what turns he takes, or mistakes he makes, he has you.

     It’s the last day of summer before Damian goes back to high school for his senior year. He’s spending it much like every other night with his brothers: in costume.

     “Just a few more minutes,” Dick grins at him while he peers at Damian’s covered arm, making his youngest brother rub it under his sleeve and hide it from Dick with a scowl.

     Jason snorts through the comms and Damian can hear him breathing loud and the wind trailing behind him, “Do you think-- it’s going to be-- a damsel-- in distress?”

     “We’re out and about and Ivy is busy turning the Narrows into her new garden. Of course, she’s going to be a damsel. She’ll probably be trapped in Ivy’s vines and Damian’s going to be the one who’ll cut her down and save her.” Dick swoons towards Damian who harshly shoves him away and jumps off the rooftop to leave his eldest brother behind.

     Tim’s voice filters in his ear as he glides over rooftops, “Or it could be a bad guy. Probably out looting and taking advantage of the chaos just like these guys.” They all hear Tim grunt as he kicks and punches.

     Damian groans and glares at the night sky. They’re damage control while Batman handles Ivy by himself. From what they’ve been hearing through his comm, Ivy’s trying to find new territory after the mayor sold her greenhouse to an out-of-town developer.

     “You’re always such a party pooper, Tim.”

     “At least I’m not narrating R-rated romance novels.”

     “Hey! Those are quality gol--”

     Damian stops in an alley and turns off his comms. He hides in the shadows. Stands still in the darkness, holding his breath before releasing it through his shaky lips. He loosens the collar of his tunic and breathes out of his mouth slowly.

     Finally, he rolls up his sleeve and the glowing red numbers light up his face.

     9 minutes.

     He remembers his mother kissing the last digit after she said goodbye. After expressing her distaste for his link all his life, why did she kiss it so gently? What did it mean? Why did she look so sad? Was she worried? Scared?

     Damian Wayne has grown up waiting for the day when his timer would stop, when all the waiting would stop, when all the uncertainty and guesswork would finally come to an end.

     “Robin!”

     His comms are overridden and Batman’s voice blares through. “There’s another stray headed to your location.”

     “On it.”

     Damian’s running. Heading toward the screaming.

     “Damian, how many more minutes?”

     “Dick, focus!”

     It’s too late. Damian’s already staring at his still exposed wrist.

      7 minutes. 

     When he reaches the chaos, he sees a monster shaped like a bulb with its vines swinging wildly around, smashing into buildings and wrapped tightly around civilians.

     Dick’s words suddenly haunt him and he wonders if his soulmate is one of them. His eyes roam each victim. Damian wills himself to focus. There’s still a lot of time.

     He unsheathes his katana and cuts away at the animated vines. He catches each civilian as they fall and takes extra care when he lets them down onto the ground. An ambulance arrives when he lays down the last victim. The medics pour out and attend to them. He steals one last look at his wrist.

     2 mins.

     Damian turns his full attention to the monster. He cleans his katana on his sleeve and charges forward. He hacks and slashes at each vine it sends his way. But one vine hits him and sends him flying back. He braces himself for the impact and hits the windshield of a car.

     He groans, back aching, and notices the moving numbers on his arm.

    36 seconds.

     The monster is advancing. Damian grits his teeth. His lips are quivering. He grips the hilt of his weapon and waits. With the monster just a few feet away, Damian yells in frustration and leaps. He comes down to its side and slashes the monster’s head off.

     Its limbs flail in the air without an entity controlling it and one of the larger vines whips around and slams Damian against a building.

     His head smashes against the brick wall and his body slides down to the ground. He feels warm blood drip down his face. It slowly covers his eyes and he sneaks one last look at his wrist.

     3 seconds.

     He feels a gloved hand wipe off the blood on his face and pull on his eyelids. When his eye opens, he hears the three continuous beeps while locking eyes with you.

     “Are you okay? Do you know where you are?” Robin is staring at you through his mask while you flash light into his eye. His pupil constricts and then dilates when you move away the flashlight. “Talk to me, Robin. I need to know if you’ve got a concussion. Do you remember where you are?”

     You watch him blink both eyes and slowly his mouth moves, “Gotham.” You give him a long look before you finally release the breath you’ve been holding.

     Robin is your soulmate. After 27 years of waiting, you finally meet him. But work comes first.

     Your hands move and part his hair to look at the wound. It’s a small gash but it’s going to need stitches. For now, you need to stop the bleeding.

     Damian’s hand covers yours and he brings it down to his face. You watch him stare at the now faded mark on your wrist and slowly he brings it closer to his lips before pressing a kiss against the faded string of numbers.

✧ ✧ ✧

     “Y/N, how many casualties?”

     You’re still not used to having Batman addressing you by name. You clear your throat and stare at thepiece of paper you brought with you to avoid looking at any of them. “7 DOAs and 12 in critical condition but quarantined. Hospital records show that 42 are already in recovery.”

     “Red Robin, how many missing persons reports?”

     “23 but there’s no more ground to cover.”

     “Where else can we look? The rest of the area is still ground zero, Bruce.”

     Batman glares at Jason. He’s still not used to having his name mentioned in front of you. But it’s not like you want to be here. You want to help but you’d rather be out there in an ambulance, reporting to doctors. You’re only here because of Damian.

     He nudges your shoulder with his and waits for you to turn to him. You hide half of your face behind your paper and give your soulmate a deep frown. Damian replies with a quick smile before turning his full attention back to Batman.

     “--still some debris here. Red Robin, Batgirl, and I will look into it. The rest of you take the rest of the night off.”

     Dick and Jason are already getting ready to argue with Bruce when Damian tugs on your hand and leads you to the elevator shaft. When he closes the door, you slump against the scaffolding and sigh. You’re exhausted. It’s another long night in Gotham as usual.

     Damian’s tall form stands next to you, leaning against your shoulder, sending electricity up and down your spine. He’s bowing his head in thought. You eye him curiously and watch his brows meet at the center.

     “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”

     Only his eyes turn to you and he smirks. It doesn’t take much for you to decipher what he’s thinking. All you have to do is look and everything is written plainly on his face. Even when his family is around, the stoic demeanor he wears with them is very telling of what calculations he’s making and what he plans to do next.

     You smirk back. “Where to?”

     The shaft doors open automatically when it reaches the top. Damian places his wide palm on the small of your back and guides you out of the secret door. He stops by the wall and leans on it to cage you in with his arms. “If you’re tired, beloved, we’ll stay in.”

     He leans down and kisses you. His lips are chapped from the cold night but his breath is warm like the sun. You find yourself inhaling and tasting all of him without another thought. He pushes you back against the wall with his body molding into your curves. Your breath hitches when his leg presses against your crotch. You push him back gently.

     “Let’s… Let’s sneak out…”

     Damian hasn’t turned 18 yet and you’re ten years older than him. You’ve found it so easy to just lose yourself in his touch, his warmth, his taste. But you have principles. Your rules. Boundaries you’re not willing to cross. He clenches his teeth like an animal baring his fangs.

     Damian doesn’t understand these rules. You’re soulmates. You shouldn’t be bound by such trivial legal matters.

     You slink away but hold his hand. You pull him away from the wall and toward the garage. “Come on. Lives to be saved, my boy wonder.”

     But he tries to be good. Tries to be as good as you. Good enough for you. So he respects your rules, the high standards you’ve set for yourself. Just like how you never try to talk him into a more honest life, knowing that being Robin is what makes him him.

     But destiny is nothing like karma. It plays by its own rules.

     It’s the early morning of Damian’s birthday when Alfred hears the house phone ringing. Damian and his siblings walk in from the cave while Alfred answers it. The boys are loud but exhausted, stretching their limbs and rolling their shoulders to shake away the fight from the night.

     “You excited for the big day, buddy?”

     “Kids finally gonna lose his V card. What do you think?”

     “Takes a special kind of stupid to lose it in an alley, Todd.”

     Tim’s the only one who notices Alfred’s stiff posture and desperate grip on the phone’s receiver. “Alfred?” The others stop and watch Alfred slowly turn to them, gaping, the receiver slowly slips from his grip. “What’s wrong?”

     He’s staring at Damian. His voice breaks when he utters your name.

     They break every speed limit and run every red light on the way to Gotham General Hospital. The emergency room is in chaos and the lobby is filled with people all waiting to see the victims of the accident. The wailing and the sobbing is forcing Damian to hide his head between his knees so he can think.

     The hospital didn’t call Wayne manor. One of your colleagues did. He was about to clock out but as soon as he saw you on the gurney, head bashed in with blood all over your face and in your hair, his knees went weak. He and a few of the other nurses knew you were involved with Damian Wayne and someone had to tell him.

     Four hours ago, a building collapsed near the hospital parking lot where the ambulances are parked. You and your colleagues were headed home when it happened. They’re only letting immediate family members in and no one in Damian’s family is listed as your emergency contact.

     “Is anybody in there with her?”

     “We can’t divulge that kind of information, sir.”

     “We’re her only family in Gotham!”

     “Unless you’re listed in her contacts, we can’t let you in.”

     “Check again! We should be in there--”

     “Stop!”

     Damian shouts in the waiting room, making all the chatter and buzzing cease. He stares at Bruce, Dick, and Jason before marching toward them and grabbing his brothers by the collar. “Just stop. Let them do their job.”

     You’ve told Damian enough stories about the hospital and the different types of behavior the nurses had to deal with. You don’t blame them because it’s their loved ones in question but you just wish they’d understand that wasting the nurses’ time helps no one.

     Damian lets go of his brothers and waits for them to take a seat. Bruce looks at his son. “I thought she would put one of us as her contact.”

      Damian’s mouth stretches into  a line, “I knew she didn’t. Y/N was sure I’d be the first to respond if something happens. She believed in me.”

     “Thank you,” the nurse says to him. “I’ll call you as soon as Y/N’s ready for visitors.”

     Damian nods at her and sits down with his brothers. He did the right thing but he feels sick to his stomach. He suddenly gags and Cass is quick enough to shove a trash can under his head. His retching echoes in the still quiet room.

     By the time they’re called them in, the waiting room is half empty and Damian’s birthday is almost over. They stand in front of your hospital room door with Damian’s hand on the handle. He’s staring at the timer’s faded mark on his wrist.

     His siblings turn to each other but neither rushes him in. Bruce gently places his hand on his son’s shoulder. After a sharp intake of breath, Damian finally turns the handle.

     The artificial light is glaring hard at your heavily bandaged head. Your open mouth is covered by a nebulizer and IV packs hung beside your bed.

     “Why…” Dick’s voice is breaking and almost a whisper. “Why does she need so many?”

     Bruce purses his lips when he answers, “The building collapsed from neglect over the years but the Joker was using one of the empty apartments for storage.”

     “What was in it?” Tim asks, making Jason elbow him and shush the rest of them.

     “Do you really think this is the time?” he nudges his head toward Damian who’s standing right next to your bed and holding your free hand.

     Damian has tuned them out the moment he saw you. He lowers himself and lays his chin near your shoulder. He watches your chest rise and fall and hopes your eyelids would open.

     “Y/N. Please.”

     It’s almost sunrise when you finally wake up. The room is quiet but the repeated beeping of machines helps stir you into consciousness. You blink and wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You’re in a hospital room crowded with hunched sleeping forms littered about.

     You feel someone’s fingers intertwined with yours and your eyes land on a small mop of black hair lying on your bed. Instinctively, you reach out and ruffle it out, the tips of his hair feel familiar on your fingers. The boy wakes slowly and then his eyes widen as he stares at you.

     “Y/N.”

     He stands up quickly and hovers over you, unsure of how close he could get but you can see that he wants to embrace you. Slowly, the others start waking. The two eldest men quickly run out and you can hear them calling for a doctor.

     You unclasp the tube from your mouth with one hand and release it from your mouth with a pop. You cough a few times and the boy gently helps you sit up and rubs your back until your breathing eases. You turn to him, curious.

     “I feel like… I should know you.”

     The others are halfway up at this point. Your words made them stop. They all watch Damian’s eyes stare deeply into yours with his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle.

     “What do you mean?”

     You stare at him, studying his face and trying to place where you’ve seen him. “You’re… Damian Wayne, aren’t you?”

     You feel Damian’s fingers let go of your hand and his body takes an involuntary step back.

     The doctor comes in and realizes what he’s walked into.  He asks to speak to you alone. Everyone slowly filters out and crowds the hallway in front of your room.

     Tim’s the first one who approaches Damian, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just retrograde amnesia. There’s a good chance Y/N will get her memories back.”

     Damian looks at his brother before he nods to him.

     “What if she doesn’t?”

     “Jason.”

     “No, seriously. What if.”

     Damian glares at Jason who’s not letting up. The others aren’t intervening because it’s one of those rare moments where Jason could be right. “You gotta be ready for the worst here, kid. What are you going to do?”

     Damian turns away from him and peers into your room. Even in your condition, you look as bright as you always have to him. Suddenly, you catch Damian looking at you. He quickly tenses and stands up.

     “Are you running away?” Jason blocks his path, acting like a real brother even though he isn’t. “Aren’t you her soulmate, huh, Damian Wayne?”

     “That name doesn’t mean anything to her right now!”

     The doctor steps out into the hallway, forcing the boys to shut their mouths and glare at each other. He coughs and turns to Damian. “Excuse me. Y/N’s asking for you.”

     Damian stares at him but doesn’t move. Jason slowly pushes both of his shoulders toward the door. You see him and make a small wave.

      “We’ll wait out here,” Jason whispers to him before gently pushing him into the room and closing the door behind Damian.

     You wait as he slowly walks up to you. “So, Fred tells me you’re my soulmate.”

     Damian stops just a foot away from your bed. It takes a moment but his demeanor changes. He presses the soles of his feet firmly on the ground and it lets him look you in the eyes with more ease. “I am.”

     He says it with such intensity that makes you turn away when you feel a warm blush coating your cheeks. You try to cover them with your hands and breathe out a shaky laugh. “Wow. I mean-- just wow. How long have we been…”

     “9 months.”

     You feel your cheeks heat up even more. You press your palms on your face, trying to hide yourself. “Phew… 9 months. And I actually-- But you’re not even 18 yet. Gosh.”

     Damian’s hands touch yours, making you flinch. He slowly pulls your hands away. You open your eyes and find his face so close to you. “I’m 18 now. It was my birthday yesterday,” he whispers, his warm breath blowing on your face, a familiar feeling that makes your fingers itch to reach out and touch the back of his neck.

     “Oh… Happy birthday, Damian.”

     Damian’s gaze drops to your lips but they look back up just as quickly. When he looks into your eyes, dilated and roaming his face, he remembers the first time you met. He can almost hear those three beeps.

     “Hey…” You watch big tears drop from his eyes. When you wipe them he seems shocked they’re there. “Come here.” You pull him close, making him climb onto your bed and curl up beside you. He rests his head on your shoulder and you hold him tighter when he shakes. “It’s okay,” you rub his head and your fingers untangle his unkept hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

     “Why…” he chokes out. “Why aren’t you questioning any of this? Why do you believe it so easily? Your timer’s run out. There’s no way to know if I’m really your soulmate.”

     You sneak a look at his arm and touch his faded marks. “I think… my soulmate wouldn’t be the type of person who would take advantage of an amnesiac.”

     Damian lifts his head and looks at you. “You’re too…”

     “Gullible?” you laugh.

     “Good.”

     You go still. “Does that mean I changed?”

     He looks at you. Your head is completely wrapped with bandages but your eyes still gleam when you watch him, pupils roaming to look for little tells hiding beneath his face. That small hidden smirk on your lips that slowly emerges when you finally piece something together, a mystery he didn’t know you were unravelling.

    Damian looks at you and all he sees is his beloved.

     “No,” he answers. “You’re still you.”

     You smile at him, “See? If I fell for you once then I’ll do it again. Especially now that you’re legal.”

     Damian snorts when he laughs. Unable to control it he hides his face on your shoulder, making you laugh along with him.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧  

[charpaige]

my canon chenry fantasy

Here’s how I would’ve made Chenry canon. This is a little bit over 2,300 words to compensate for the slow burn they should’ve got.

For starters, I would’ve started their relationship in Season 3. I know, I know, what about starting it in Season 1? We’ll let Henry enjoy all of his little love trysts in the first two seasons since those were actually pretty important to his character growth. It also allowed Charlotte and Henry to really bond and have some really important conversations. So, we keep those.

But, one of my favorite tropes is when someone close to a superhero gets kidnapped and they realize how important that kidnapped person is to them.

I would’ve had Charlotte get kidnapped by a new villain. A female villain too, since we barely had any of those. She’d be like Rick Twittler in a way. Since she shows up unexpected and adds a level of seriousness that the show hadn’t possessed yet. Let’s call her Miss H.

And of course, Charlotte being kidnapped drives Henry crazy because hey, one of his best friends are missing and it seems like Schwoz and Ray aren’t doing enough to bring her back.

So, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. And predictably, he fails miserably in his rescue attempt and ends up captured with Charlotte.

While waiting for Ray and Schwoz to rescue them, the two of them have some serious bonding for a few days. They talk about missing Oreo milkshakes, wonder about what happened to Jasper’s bucket collection, and dramatically fantasize about their youth like they’re knocking on death’s door.

When Captain Man finally makes it to where Charlotte and Henry are captured, they’re moved to a room by Miss H’s goons with a two-way mirror so they could see the showdown between Ray and Miss H. There’s a countdown for ten minutes in the room, but they have no idea what it does.

However, it seems like Captain Man does. Because he looks towards the mirror with concern while Miss H. gives her monologue about her villainous ways.

Henry and Charlotte watch the fight and look back and forth between that and the timer while freaking out together, and not knowing what to do. Once the timer hits the half-way mark, they unexpectedly reach for each other’s hand, squeezing a little too tight.

And then, in typical Captain Man fashion and for television like suspense, he manages to stop Miss H. and stop the timer with one second left to spare. Henry and Charlotte respond by immediately hugging each other and jumping for joy with huge smiles on their faces.

Unexpectedly, their faces are inches apart from all the excitement, they’re out of breath in a good way, and their hearts are racing from anxiety and jubilation. But their eyes meet like they’ve never met before and lean into a kiss.

But they don’t get to kiss since Captain Man barges in and makes them jump apart like they were doing something illegal.

From there, Henry and Charlotte have a hard time talking about the almost kissing incident. It’s a little awkward and they can’t even share a bowl of popcorn without fear of their hands touching.

But they eventually talk it out. It was all in the moment they say. It just felt right at the time they say. It doesn’t mean anything and they’re still best friends they convince themselves.

Everything is cool till Charlotte gets a boyfriend. Which, completely throws Henry for a loop because what the heck, who is this guy, and why does he think he’s good enough for Charlotte.

But Henry sees how happy he makes Charlotte, how well he treats her, and how annoyingly cute they look working on LIMP projects together. So, he lets them be and keeps his jealously to himself. But they still remain pretty close and everything is seemingly normal.

Until normalcy starts to go down the drain. Because Henry and Charlotte are closer than ever now that she has a boyfriend, which is weird. But knowing that Henry doesn’t have to deal with his feelings for his best friend makes their interactions a little better. And every time Charlotte shows up to work with her boyfriend with their hands laced together, Henry gets used to the small uneasiness in his stomach and smiles a little bigger because his bestie is happy.

But happiness might as well be a pair of black jeans since it fades over time. Suddenly, Henry gets a little frustrated that he has to watch Charlotte so happy while being a sidekick to a superhero is taking a toll on his mental health, school grades, and his ability to be a teenager.

But Henry keeps it to himself since he doesn’t want to feel like a bother with his problems. Until the Christmas episode that is.

I’d keep it the same as Season 5’s episode with Ray and Henry saving Christmas trees. Except Charlotte is throwing a small Christmas party at her place with some of her class friends and Henry was supposed to be there to take a breather from being Kid Danger.

But he’s Henry with a good heart. So, he has to save Christmas even though he’s kind of sick of saving everything and not being able to hang out with his friends.

Henry arrives late to the Christmas party after everyone’s left except Jasper’s passed out on the couch from drinking too much eggnog with gingerbread crumbs all over his face.

Charlotte gives Henry a cup of hot chocolate and they sit by the fireplace where Charlotte makes him spill the beans on how he’s been doing since they barely get to talk anymore.

He makes her go first since he knows Charlotte gets an ear full of talking men since she works in the Man Cave. She fills him on accelerated testing, joining the newspaper committee, and some crime tracking system she and Schwoz had been working on in the Man Cave.

However, he’s caught off guard when she reveals that she and her boyfriend broke up a while ago. Henry had been so busy and sleep-deprived he didn’t even notice them not eating lunch together, holding hands, and at the library together.

He wants to be nosey and ask a whole bunch of questions, but her answer to them wanting to be just friends sufficed enough.          

So, Henry finally got to rant and rave about how tired he is of being Kid Danger sometimes, how much his grades are suffering, and how much he misses being the Three Musketeers with Jasper and Charlotte. He manages to leave out the fact he has a massive crush on her.

Which is hard since she looks really pretty in her forest green sweater, a Santa hat headband, and her hair straightened for her yearly layered haircut.

Charlotte puts her hand over his and does what she does best, makes him feel better while telling him how to go about his next moves to get his life back. After the serious talk is over, they vibe and catch up and Jasper wakes up to join them like it’s old times.

Jasper says his goodbyes to Henry and Charlotte and dashes home to do a weird Christmas ritual with his mother. This leaves Henry and Charlotte awkwardly standing in the doorway and saying their goodbyes with a hug. They smile a little sheepish after they separate, but Charlotte’s eyes briefly glance upwards and slightly widen.

Henry follows her line of sight and notices the culprit of her gaze, mistletoe above the doorframe that had been forgotten.

Henry coughs awkwardly and quickly says goodnight in an attempt to get out of there as soon as possible. Except Charlotte reaches for him and stops him in his tracks.

She’s looking up at him like the last almost kissing incident and Henry just thickly swallows waiting for her next move.

“You know how much I hate breaking holiday traditions.” And Charlotte leans into him and kisses him on the cheek.

Henry knows he’s embarrassingly flushed and his mouth his probably slightly agape, because who is this version Charlotte and why was mistletoe only around on Christmas?

But he’s Henry, so he’s cool and suave (yeah, right), and he smiles and wishes her a good night.

He somehow floats his way home and doesn’t stop thinking about the kiss till he falls asleep.

But the cheek kiss suddenly freaks him out while he’s eating breakfast, because what the heck does it even mean??? Does she like him? Are they on the path to being more than friends? Or does Charlotte really just love holiday traditions and he’s a victim of circumstance?

All the thinking drives him crazy, so he finally turns to Jasper to ask about what any of it means. From the beginning when they almost kissed to now. And unsurprisingly, Jasper just shrugs and says, “I dunno.”

So, Henry remains really conscious about his crush on Charlotte and unsure if their best friendship is in danger (ha, get it? ‘cuz he’s Henry/Kid Danger, yeah okay it’s not funny) or worthy of something more.

It’s up in the air till they kiss in I Dream of Danger and become official. Instead of Charlotte being freaked out by the dreams because of her inability to see Henry in a romantic way, she’s freaked out because she’s afraid of their relationship changing.

They’ve been Henry and Charlotte. The best friends for the longest amount of time. A friend turned romantic relationships usually turn out well, but she’s worried about theirs going down in flames and losing her best friend for the rest of her life.

But Henry reassures her that everything between them is going to be fine whatever path their relationship takes. And they can talk about it later when she’s not feet away from a hungry lion.

So, he rescues her and they don’t kiss, but instead, she hugs him really tight for basically saving her life.

Later on, Henry walks her home since he’s afraid to let her out of his sight now. And they talk a little bit more about their feelings for each other and admit that their relationship has been on its ups and downs.

When they’re at Charlotte’s doorstep, they get awkward since they both got a lot off of their chests in a short amount of time.

Henry has his hands in his pockets. “So, yeah…” he trails off.

She anxiously laughed. “Yeah, so what now?”

“I don’t know. Should we try the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing?” He’s looking at the ground when he says it since this is the most nervous he’s ever been in his whole life.

“Well, I like you and you like me, so I guess it makes sense?”

“You guess?” Henry laughs.

Charlotte playfully rolls her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

They smile really big at each other and banter a little more till the air gets serious again. The conversation truly feels like it’s at its end now, so Henry goes in for the final blow.

“Can I kiss you?” Henry has to ask because hey, we love consent.

Charlotte nods frantically while saying yes.

And then they kiss. It’s terse but sweet and they’re both in astonishment afterward, since wow, I just kissed my best friend and it was actually kind of great.

They awkwardly part ways after that but then we get separate scenes of how happy they are. We get to see Charlotte run upstairs to her bedroom to scream into her pillow in glee. And we get to see Henry jumping up and down in excitement and punching the air. And yeah, Chenry is canon at that point.

Chenry dates officially in front of the audience from the beginning of Season 4. The first episode from that season is Sick & Wired, so we open with Charlotte taking care of a sick Henry and her remaining by his side. Ray thinks they’re lying to hang out together since they’re dating, so he still convinces Jasper to wear a wire and blah blah blah, you’ve probably seen the episode.

And yeah, so imagine official Chenry for all of Season 4 and 5. They’re not super-duper romantic and always engaging in PDA since it’s a self-proclaimed ‘kid’s show’ and I want kids to know that you don’t have to always be kissing and all over each other to be in love or in a relationship.

So, we’d just occasionally see Henry and Charlotte holding hands while sitting on the couch, Henry’s arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, the two of them sharing food and drink, them smiling super big at each other in the background when other characters are talking.

The occasional kiss could involve forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and even hand kisses because those are so wholesome and underrated. Plus, I’d want there to be a running gag that Jasper never gets to see Henry and Charlotte kiss. Since, The Bucket Trap he really wanted to see them kiss, so what’s better than to not have them kiss. It’d also be for Jace and Riele’s sake too not gonna lie. Since I’m sure that’s awkward and people ship them enough in real life.

But yeah, Jasper only sees Chenry holding hands, long hugs, and other romantic shit. And in the last episode, they offer to kiss in front of him to appease him, but there’s a power outage as soon as they go in for it and Jasper misses the whole thing with a dramatic “Noooooo!”

Canon Chenry also means we get a prom episode where they look awesome in a matching tuxedo and dress. We get a Valentine’s episode that lets them go on a date. We’d get graduation day Chenry in their caps and gowns.

Matching costume Chenry for Halloween. Like, imagine the two of them wearing a peanut butter and jelly costume where they’re each a slice of smeared bread. And Jasper gets to be a milk carton and maybe his significant other could be a chocolate chip cookie. Idk, I’m just rambling at this point.

So, yeah, that’s all I got. 

[sirpeachess-casual]

Love your Dick Grayson Must Die series. I've seen you're taking requests. How about mission goes wrong, Rachel gets seriously injured and Dick spends the next 24h in the infirmary with her blaming himself, possibly having a breakdown at some point because she gets worse before she gets better? I love when he's in full Dad Mode and their scenes in your fics always make me cry 😭❤

24:00:00

Part 3 of the Catching Dick Grayson series, Part 9 of the Dick Grayson Must Die series

Summary: In which Rachel is injured and given twenty-four hours to pull through. With the other Titans away, it's up to Dick to keep her - and himself - from falling apart.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Bruce Wayns is a trying to be a good parent, Dick Grayson is a good parent

~~

TITANS TOWERSAN FRANCISCO

24:00:00

Twenty-four hours.

Dr. Stewart had given Rachel twenty-four hours to pull through. If she could make it that long, she would make a full recovery. If she couldn't, it was pretty likely that the rest of the Titans - who were stuck in the airport - wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye.

Dick had broken protocol by bringing the doctor here. But she was a trusted League associate and he had been desperate. So he had called her, practically begged her to come, and allowed her into the Tower. She had gotten to work with him at her elbow the whole time, passing sponges and wiping her brow, until she had done all she could do. Then she had given him her diagnosis, wished them both luck, and left.

He sat in the infirmary, leg bouncing, tapping her number into his League and personal phone just in case. Swallowing thickly, he started the timer.

23:59:99

Twenty-four hours and counting.

He sat back in the chair, twitching and exhaling slowly. Kory texted him, asking how she was. He gave her the full update and she promised they would be there as soon as they could. The airport was a mess, though, and it would be quicker to hurry up and wait for the storm to pass than try to work out another mode of transportation. He understood.

23:53:38

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He had made it almost exactly twelve minutes before the itch under his skin forced him to stand and get busy somehow. He couldn't just sit here and wait for the worst without sacrificing what was left of his own sanity. Taking his phone with him, he walked into the great room, headed straight for the kitchen. He set his phone on the counter, the countdown displayed on the screen, and stood staring at the fridge.

He wasn't hungry.

He was hungry, but he couldn't eat.

He should eat. Sustenance was always important after a mission or his muscles would regret it in the morning. He knew this. It had been pounded into him since he was twelve.

But he couldn't eat.

Snatching his phone back, he stomped to his room. He stayed long enough to rinse off in the shower and slip into casual clothes - a gray shirt and some pants or something. They were clean and he didn't give the outfit a second thought. Bringing his laptop and some headphones, he dragged a comfortable chair into the infirmary and got settled. Legs crossed, laptop open, headphones ready, he sat.

He checked the timer again.

22:09:47

Two hours down, somehow. Only twenty-two to go.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He lost another hour staring into space, arms crossed as he looked out the window. The sun had risen, its beams muted by the low-hanging dark clouds. Rain pelted against the windows and deck outside, distant thunder rumbling across the ocean. It looked like the rain wouldn't be stopping for a while, the furthest reaching vestiges of a storm tormenting the city.

He heard screaming, saw a splash of blood, and blinked right before Rachel went down. Stupid flashbacks. He pulled in a shuttering breath, tightening his arms and glancing at the bed. No change and no improvement. Twenty hours to go and she hadn't made any noticeable inch of progress.

Breaking pose, he marched to her bedside, tapping the monitor. He switched between windows, checking her brain activity, blood oxygen levels, anything that he could in any way understand. The numbers remained the same, maddeningly refusing to improve.

Oh, how he wanted to call Dr. Stewart and hear a trusted professional reassure him it would be fine. Or maybe Kory and let her fiercely kind words soothe him. If only Donna was still around; she would tell him how to take his overactive mind off everything and stop the spiral before it even started. Because it was coming. It was coming fast and hard and his only hope was to stave it off for the next nineteen hours.

Fingers tapping an uncoordinated rhythm, he switched the monitor to the default view and paced away. Large hands scrubbed his face and he counted his steps, timed his breathing, cracked his knuckles, did anything he could to get his mind focused on something other than the echoes of her screaming.

The walls started to melt and he knew he had to get out. He burst out of the room, pacing and breathing heavily in the hallway. Music would help, music always helped, but he wouldn't dare deafen himself to the beeping monitors even a little bit. He could read or work on reports if he wasn't so damn distracted. The training room was too far away - an entire floor beneath the infirmary - and he didn't need anything from the bedrooms.

He could eat. He should eat. But the suggestion was passed over before it could even be considered. No way would he be able to taste anything.

That left the great room, its lounge looking traitorously inviting. A sit would be nice, a moment to relax by the fire and release some of the tension in his shoulders, but he didn't deserve it. He needed to stay vigilant, ready to pop into action at a moment's notice. If her vitals changed, he needed to be there. If she started to wake up, he would be standing over her, welcoming her back.

His reflection caught in the rain and he saw blood on his hands, his own ineptitude mocking him. He had been too slow, his stupid moral compass a crutch keeping him from doing what had been necessary. If he had only been stronger, faster, better, he could have saved her. Without his own limitations in the way, she would have been fine.

His phone buzzed and he rushed to answer it. "Kory," he greeted urgently.

"We got tickets."

"When do you leave?"

"Not for another eight hours."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Look, I'm not any happier about it than you are. None of us are. You think we want to be stuck here with what's going on?"

His face sank into his palm, rubbing and pulling at his hair. "This wouldn't have happened if we flew private. If I had just... I could've figured something out."

"Dick, you only have so many strings you can pull. And you used a lot of them just to get her and yourself back home. That's what's important; that's she's back where she belongs."

He sighed, glancing down the hall. "I just wish I could have done more."

She returned the tense exhale, muffling the mic against the din of angry travelers behind her. "No updates yet from the doctor?"

"No changes. Everything is the same from a couple of hours ago."

"Well that's good, right? That means she isn't getting any worse."

He clenched his jaw to bite back the angry remark that almost came out. No, technically she wasn't getting any worse. But she also wasn't getting any better. The clock was ticking, her time running down, and she was no closer to waking up than she was when all of this started. "I'll call you back. Let me know when you're in the air."

"Dick-!"

He hung up, checking the timer and pocketing his phone.

18:34:07

He really needed a distraction, someone to talk to, to scream and rant at. Someone who could take his blows and bites and still consider him a decent human being when it was all said and done. God, he missed Donna.

When she was halfway, with exactly twelve hours left, her heart stopped.

Read the rest on Archive of Our Own.

[estamos-destinadas]

.

They meet by accident on a bus.

It’s Valentina’s first time on public transport, having given her bodyguards the slip, and one of the few empty seats is next to a girl with the deepest brown eyes she has ever looked into. Unfailingly friendly, she quickly finds out the girl’s name.

Juliana.

She learns other things about the girl too, like the fact that it’s only Juliana’s first week in Mexico City and she was running an errand for her mom. Juliana took the wrong bus on her way back so she had to take another one in order to get back to the correct route, or so she hoped.

Their conversation flows. The dark cloud that has been hanging over Valentina since her father’s death starts to clear away, along with the worried crease on Juliana’s forehead, as they laugh about things both serious and silly. Like how people rarely say what they mean, or how it’s already past noon and neither of them has had lunch yet, or how they’re both fairly certain that they have no idea where their bus is going.

They get off the bus in front of a fast-food restaurant and decide to get burgers together.

After, Valentina asks Juliana, “Vamos por un café?” She doesn’t want to say goodbye to the girl just yet.

Juliana is quick to agree and they leave the restaurant for a nearby coffee shop.

Valentina realises that she and Juliana come from completely different worlds. Valentina’s parents are both gone; her mom died when she was very young while her dad recently passed away after suffering a heart attack. Juliana’s dad recently died in a bar fight, so she and her mom came to Mexico in search of a better life. Valentina has two siblings; Juliana is an only child. Valentina has never worked a day in her life; Juliana has done odd jobs since she was a kid.

But they are similar in some ways. They both love fashion, though Valentina likes to follow trends and Juliana likes to think of designs. Their fathers’ deaths were only a few days apart. Most bizarrely, the ever-changing numbers on their right wrists indicate the same day about a year in the future, only within minutes of each other.

/

Officially, the ever-decreasing sequence of numbers is called the Soulmate-Identifying Timer. Colloquially, it is simply called the Timer. It’s a countdown to the moment one will meet one’s supposed soulmate. In Mexico, the phenomenon is called hora de alma gemela. Soulmate hour.

Of course, nobody considers it soulmates anymore, not in the sense of repeated meetings throughout multiple lifetimes. The person one meets through the Timer is their life partner, a lifelong companion; definitely the love of their life, but just the one lifetime. Anything else beyond that cannot be proven.

With the modern age, there are even people who choose not to stand by the numbers on their wrists. They deem it too deterministic, too limiting, too binding.

Eva is one of those people; she’s had the shifting numbers on her wrist tattooed over with a solid strip of black when she turned eighteen. She met Mateo shortly after that; he too had the numbers on his wrist covered with a tattoo. Whatever they feel for each other is “independent of some cosmological determinism,” as Eva used to say.

Valentina thought it was romantic in its own way. Of course, that was before Eva divorced Mateo, only a month after their father’s death.

On the other hand, Guille’s Timer led him to Renata. They saw each other across a crowded room at one of Grupo Carvajal’s company parties and, as Guille told Valentina after, they just knew. Now the numbers on their wrists are unchanging: a timestamp of the moment they saw each other, synced even to the last second, which is a rare occurrence.

Valentina knows that the timestamps on her parents’ wrists were not synced, her dad’s almost a full hour ahead of her mom’s; he saw her before she laid eyes on him. That did not stop them from having a happy life together until Valentina’s mom passed away. Her dad’s timestamp remained fixed thereafter, even when he met Lucía, whose own Timer stopped upon seeing him. It was improbable, a fluke, but everyone took it to mean that León Carvajal was one of those lucky few who meet two life partners. Everyone but Eva, who refused to believe it and vehemently opposed his marriage to Lucía. Still, despite Eva’s opposition, he and Lucía were happy in the short time they were together.

/

Valentina believes in the Timer, of course. She has dated around, but that’s a practice encouraged by society as a way to pass the time. She still thinks the Timer will lead her to the love of her life. Nothing has ever proven it wrong before, not to her knowledge. She keeps her right wrist bare. It’s a norm in her social circle, with everyone displaying their Timers like a unique brand.

Juliana, it seems, doesn’t really think much of her Timer. Unlike Valentina, Juliana wears several bracelets on her right wrist. She even has a tattoo of a flower next to her Timer, done on a whim because someone was offering it for free. She tells Valentina that it isn’t a statement so much as an ornament; it’s the norm she is used to.

Regardless of their thoughts -- or lack thereof -- on Timers, Valentina finds the coincidence of their almost in-sync numbers amusing. Perhaps, she thinks, she and Juliana will meet the loves of their lives at a party that they will both attend together.

“We even have that in common,” she says to Juliana, laughing.

/

[jiminscaramel]

Hey! Could you maybe do a silly, goofy date out with Hyungwon please? Fluff, with some sexual themes thrown in if your feeling spicy. I want you to feel free to do what you want with it! Your writing is so cute btw I'm in love with it! Thank you!

Hi, thank you so much! I chose to not add anything explicit because a) I was running short on time and didn’t want to write anything half-assed and b) I thought perhaps less would be more with this little drabble. Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it! ❤️

You slalom through the throng of people, nimbly dashing left and right to avoid running into innocent pedestrians, your feet struggling to keep up with Hyungwon’s long strides. You mumble quick, half-assed apologies as he tugs you along in haste, on a mission to get there on time.

“Hyungwon, slow down,” you laugh, squeezing his hand. “I’m pretty sure we’re on time.”

He apologises and rounds the corner, slowing significantly and earning a sigh of relief from you. You opt to link your arm through his as you continue down the street, curious as to what he has planned at this time of day.

The sun is quickly setting, making way for its luminescent counterpart and her shiny companions. The streetlamps splash the whole street with orange light, preparing for night to arrive and the traffic is slowly thinning the further you walk.

Hyungwon frantically observes every building you pass, quickly dismissing it and moving on when he finds it isn’t the right one. After a few minutes of being dragged around he finally comes to a stop and checks the time on his wristwatch. “We made it.” His shoulders drop in relief and his tense muscle instantly relax.

Though you can’t exactly see where you’re supposed to have made it to. The building is like any other on the street, an unremarkable front door marking the entrance and so you’re a little confused as to what he has in store. He leads you through the door and up a few narrow flights of stairs and before you know it you’ve stepped into a vast studio. Four separate cooking stations stand in the middle of the room facing one main station and you seem to be on time because every station is occupied, bar yours.

“A… a cooking class?” You ask for clarification, though the evidence is right there for your very eyes to see. Though one thing seems to be different. You notice everyone had come with a partner. “A couples’ cooking class?”

Hyungwon nods eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. You can’t say you’re not surprised, a date night like this is totally out of the norm for him. The two of you usually opt for the movies, a place to eat or even karaoke at a push. Such energy and drive was refreshing to see. And though it’s something that is definitely out of your comfort zone, you appreciate the change and the thought.

You shuffle over to the corner where you shed your outdoor clothing and lay your bags to rest, sheepishly taking stand behind your counter. You stick close to Hyungwon, his tall frame shielding you from curious glances at the latest arrivals and a reassuring arm winds around your waist.

Not long after, a woman, who you assume to be the teacher, stands at the front and barks for attention. The buzz of chatter in the room instantly stops and all attention is on her. She looks professional, almost too professional to be teaching a group of young and in-love couples how to cook the most basic dishes. She drones on for a short time about health and safety and hygiene and begins showing the class how to prep the items.

It’s pretty safe to say though, that neither you nor Hyungwon were taking it seriously. The two of you were like children, giggling and misbehaving through every step of the class, earning sour looks from the chef and other couples alike. He flicks water in your direction after washing his hands and watches in delight as you get scolded. You hide the ingredients and utensils he needs, smirking in michevious delight as he also gets scolded. At the end of the class there’s not much to take home and you stare at the finished dish in horror.

“It looks awful,” Hyungwon voices your thoughts aloud, picking up the container and placing it in a bag to carry home. “Let’s never do this again.”

You laugh and shrug on your coat, eager to get home. “It was your idea!”

“A bad one at that.” He leans forward and lowers his voice so he can’t be overheard by anyone else. “She was so angry. And everyone else was so bland, we added life to the party.”

“I think we were meant to add life to the dish, Hyungwon.”

He shrugs and holds the door open, throwing a hasty goodbye over his shoulder. You catch the bus home much too tired to walk the short distance. You stumble through the front door and quickly kick off your boots heading straight to the kitchen and dumping the dish in the bin.

“You know, my favourite part of dinner has always been dessert anyway.” You say with your head deep in the fridge, searching for inspiration in the few ingredients resting on the shelves. You pull out a random mix of items, hoping inspiration will kick in at any given moment but you just let your heart lead instead.

You mill around the kitchen, lost in your task of making something edible for dessert. Hyungwon lends a hand here and there but spends most of the time just staring and gazing intently. You quickly finish up, set the timer for the dessert in the oven and leanback on the counter, mindlessly snacking on fruit. You hold out the punnet to share but you find he isn’t interested and only has eyes for one thing – you. He can’t take his eyes off your lips, his eyes darkening with each passing minute.

A bolt of lightning excitement runs through your chest as you recognise that look. You play along, feigning indifference. You consume the next strawberry with more care this time, slowly and deliberately, enjoying his inability to keep his feelings in check.

“Don’t do that.” He leans forward, sizing you up like a hunter tracking his prey, a dangerous smile playing on the corners of his full lips.

“Do what?” You ask, maintaining ignorance – but for how much longer, you don’t know. Your heart begins to race with wanton anticipation.

He slides off the stool and walks around the island, taking the fruit from your hands and placing it on the counter. He pulls you close, your bodies flush, and traces his thumb across your lip. He pulls it down and watches it plump back up, completely transfixed.

Hyungwon leans in and gently presses his lips to yours, a feather light touch that has devastating effects, and slowly runs his tongue along the candied flesh. You lunge forward as he pulls away, but he holds you in place and glances over your shoulder at the cooker, eyebrows raised in question.

You turn to look and shrug. “We have half an hour.”

“Half an hour isn’t enough.” He says quietly, his hand travelling further down the expanse of your back, prying into the waistband of your jeans.

You start unbuttoning his shirt, watching the minutes countdown on the timer with an impish smirk. “Half an hour is all you need for the entrée.”

[barnesnmrnoble]

Lilacs

(Picture is mine.)

Main Masterlist - Clint Barton Masterlist

The soft purple of the lilacs contrasted nicely against the dark colors of his casket. He always did love the smell of lilacs, they reminded him of her.

Word Count: 4655

Warnings: angst, fluff, character death, description of injuries

A/n: I’m throwing y’all into the deep end and starting this with some angst, so have fun! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! If you do, leave a like and a reblog or comment! I’d love to hear what you think and honestly I need the validation.

Read on AO3!

The soft purple of the lilacs contrasted nicely against the dark colors of his casket. He always did love the smell of lilacs, reminded him of her, of the perfume she always wore.

The sounds of her heels clicking against the floor were muted by the carpet on the aisle way, but it did little to mute her heart wrenching sobs.

She missed him.

She dropped to her knees once she stood before the wooden casket and gently wiped her tears away. She missed feeling the callouses on the pads of his fingers as the swiped at her tears. She missed the sweet words he whispered to ease what burdens she was carrying. “It’s alright, sugar. I’m here, okay?”

She missed the raspiness of his voice in the mornings when he rolled to tell her good morning and assaulted her nose with his terrible morning breath. She missed how the bad things and the silly things and even the scary things made her smile because it was him that did it.

She missed him.

She was angry at the world. At the fact that she couldn’t hold his face between her hands anymore, that she couldn’t touch him and feel his skin, his heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest as they fell asleep together, a tangled mess of limbs beneath the sheets of their bed. She was angry at the fact that she couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t open the casket to say goodbye to his face because they’d never found his body.

She was angry at the world.

-

She remembered the day her world caved in, crushed her until she couldn’t breath, then left her alone. She remembers it like it was yesterday, even if it had been a year ago.

She heard the nearly silent swish from behind her and let the fletching glide past her ear, resisting the urge to shiver at its touch. An unmatched show of trust that he would never miss, and that no matter where she was she would know he had her back. Once the arrow had lodged itself in the chest of a measly enemy soldier, she turned her head to her left and gave a mischievous wink for him. She heard his deep chuckle through the comms and behind it was the sound of his arrowheads rotating and switching. She loved that sound.

She didn’t love the sounds of him struggling, a rustling through the comms as he tried to fight against the restraints of agents taking him away. She didn’t love the muffled shouts  to reach his team, or the clanging of his quiver being thrown to floor. Her feet took off at a dead sprint, following the path they’d taken with him. She slammed through doors, emptying her clip into any agent that came into her vision. But tunnel vision affected everyone, including highly trained avengers, and she missed a few in her peripherals, a mistake that would cost her everything.

She felt her skin tear underneath the sharp blade of a knife, it stung but it was just across her shoulder so she soldiered on. But the bullet that lodged itself into her thigh stopped her for good. She watched in horror as she was stuck in place, watching him be taken away, following his scared eyes as they rounded a corner and she lost him.

She screamed his name, screamed for the team, and screamed in pain. She screamed until her throat was worn and she could barely make the sounds of sobs. When heavy feet clattered up behind her, she screamed for them to find him, told them where they’d taken him. They left in a flurry, shouting orders that didn’t reach her ears.

She hissed in pain when strong fingers pressed down onto the hole in her leg, soaking up the blood with a cloth she didn’t know the origin of. They grabbed her arm, settling it around their waist and holding her weight so she could walk.

She could hear the furious shouting of her teammates as the slammed against whatever barrier was between them and saving him. But his voice broke out above everything else. “Sweetheart, I love you.”

Bang.

One shot, one life taken. Her sobs turned into painful wails, cries that it couldn’t be happening, cries of his name because it wasn’t real. It was just a dream, right?

-

She doesn’t think she’s stopped crying since that day. She cries when she sees the arrows Steve had collected from the hallway where they’d thrown them. One sits in a shadow box frame on the mantle above her fireplace, his favorite place to sit with her in his arms, where’d he relish in the fact that even in his crazy life he had a girl that made him less crazy. It was his favorite arrow in the frame, one he never wanted to use but always had on him. The arrow tip a bright and shining silver, and the fletching a muted purple, like the lilacs.

But still, she had a job to do. So everyday, no matter the pain she rolled from her bed and got to work. She made herself breakfast, letting her hands move in the routine they always did, each movement was a chore, but her body did it anyways. She skipped past the coffee pot, hadn’t been able to touch the drink since he’d died. She tried once, hoping that it would be a moment in her day in memory of him and his absolute love and need for his coffee but she just ended up sick knowing it only reminded her of him and what had happened that day. She never tried again.

She mindlessly walked to the training area, wrapped her hands and punched against the bag until she had nothing left in her and all but collapsed to the ground in a fit of tears. She’d let her tears flow freely until there was nothing left and her legs fell asleep, pins and needles raging all the way up to her knees. Then she’d cut away the wrapping on her hands, sweat drenched and withering away with the moisture. She’d walk back to her room, and let the scalding hot water of her shower wash away what it could of her pain. It wasn’t much.

The rest of the day would be spent doing her paperwork, and filing reports that needed to be done. Busywork until the next mission, until she disassociated from the pain and focused it on those who deserved it, those who made the world such a shitty place, those that made her world bleak. Today wasn’t much different from everyday. The Irish lilt of Friday’s voice sounded through her room, mission briefing in 10 minutes, suit up.

-

She swings low at the man attacking her, swipes his feet out from underneath him and jams her knife behind his kneecap. It hurts like a bitch she knows, and the man’s howl of pain confirms she did it well. She’d realized a few missions ago that killing them didn’t relieve the ache in her chest or fill the whole in her heart but making them suffer like they had made her do, letting them curl into themselves from the pain of her strikes washed away her pain more than any shower ever did.

Another wave of them are heading towards her, it’s probably more than she can handle by herself but she doesn’t care, she still wants them to feel the pain. She’s taking care of one of them, almost has him to the ground and misses the one coming at her from behind. She delivers a final slam of her fist to the jaw of the soldier in front and he drops like a sack of potatoes but she doesn’t miss the sounds of the one behind her dropping to the floor as well, groaning and writhing in pain. The glint of a metal arm slides into view and he smiles, tells her he has her back and to give ‘em hell.

She gives a half hearted smile and surges forward. She grasps the handle of a knife holstered at her back, and in one fluid motion sends it flying down the hallway to root itself in the soft spot between armour plates of an incoming. She runs past door after door of housing cells, most of them empty but a few house victims, all of them curled away from the noise and the terror outside their thick metal doors. She knows she should go back to them, help them escape but she has to finish clearing the way , ridding the halls of the soldiers that keep them here.

When the wave starts to clear, and her selection of weapons has started to thin out, her feet skid to a halt at the end of the hallway and her eyes widen at what she sees. She turns back to see the hall clear and Bucky making her way towards her but she waves him off tells him to get the civilians out because down the next hallway is the blinking timer of the soldier’s back up plan.

She has no idea how to disarm a bomb, doesn’t even pretend to try and knows Bucky isn’t exactly proficient at it either. It’s best to just clear out before the timer finishes it's daunting countdown. She yells into her earpiece for everyone to get out, they comply. She struggles with the locks, the complex tech needs fingerprints and pass codes and she isn’t a hacker. Bucky isn’t faring any better, hacking new age tech still isn’t something he is good at, they only have a minute and a half left and it takes them a minute at least to find their way out of the building’s maze.

And so they make the hardest decision they’ve ever faced.

Their teammates are yelling at them, screaming for them to get out before it’s too late but they keep saying there are civilians, if they could just get past these locks. But they can’t, they know they can’t and that timer is beeping ridiculously fast now, and they run. She can feel her stomach churning with the thought of leaving innocent lives behind to waste away in the heat of fire and pain but there isn’t anything she can do.

They swing open the last door when the timer finishes. They feel fire lick at their heels, and can barely stay on their feet with the rumbling beneath them. It eventually wins, leaving them on the ground and pieces of debris falling around them. They protect their heads and vital organs, let out a grunt when a decently sized piece of concrete covers the both of them. But it’s lifted quickly after, familiar hands reaching out to help them up from the ground, and she stands up, only to bend over and dry heave. Her stomach is still churning from leaving them behind, and they assure her that they can go back and scan for civilians. She just hopes they survived.

-

Tony has his suit scanning over the debris for weak spots, also scanning for heartbeats or any sign of life beneath the smoldering rubble. Her and Bucky are stuck on the jet getting checked over, they are both fine, other than being perturbed they can’t go out and help. It was their mess anyways. From what she can hear, Tony says he has only found one or two heat signatures, both lifeless beneath the rubble. It makes her heart clench, she knows if she just had more time she could’ve saved them, but she chose to run away. She was a coward and-- Bucky’s hand lands on her knee, bobbing up and down from her anxiety. He tells her there was nothing more they could do, and she can’t get to beat up about it. She doesn’t believe him.

“Steve! I’ve got a heartbeat!”

Her head shoots up fast enough to pop spots in her neck and give her spots in her vision. Maybe she wasn’t all fine. She watches Steve gracefully leap over piles of debris, narrowly avoiding the rebar that sticks out. They work in tandem to remove the concrete piled on top of the body. It takes a minute or two, there had been so much on top of the body, she was surprised they were still alive. She works herself up into a frenzy, her breath is erratic and her heart is pounding. Bucky is beside her trying to calm her down before she can make herself pass out, but it doesn’t work and her head lulls to the side, her eyes closed.He sets her down onto the bench they were sitting on, placing a parachute pack beneath her head before rushing out of the door.

At least she is calmer now.

-

Bucky’s feet mold to the odd shapes of broken concrete as he runs across it, Steve is calling for him, needing another set of arms to help pull the last piece of debris off the body. He nearly trips several times but manages to keep himself upright, and lands softly on the ground beside the team. His chest tightens when he can just make out what looks to be a leg stretching out from beneath, it’s almost so tight he can’t breathe. It takes the entire team to finally get the piece moved and the smaller pieces cleared away, but when they finally do, they freeze.

“Oh god.”

Steve is the first one to release his breath, but his shoulders are slumped, and heavy like he is carrying the ton of bricks that he was just hit with on his back. The disbelief in the air is palpable, so much so Bucky is sure its wrapping around everyone and squeezing the life out of them. It’s hard to move but they do it anyways, they need to do it.

Tony’s shaken voice cracks over the comms and calls for Bruce, he isn’t sure the best course of action now. His brain is short circuiting, its something he has only done a few times in his life, but he thinks this might be the worst. His heart is at his feet and his stomach is inching up his throat, and his feet are glued to the ground. It helps everyone once Bruce makes it out to them, he is barking orders and giving tasks. It helps break them from their haze, pulls their mind away from what is going on and gives them tangible tasks to do and to make them feel helpful. Steve and Nat run back to the jet to grab the backboard and other medical supplies, Bucky, Sam, and Thor are working on clearing out more concrete giving Bruce more space to work. And Tony drops down to his knees assisting Bruce in checking for unseen injuries, it takes him a few more prompts from Bruce before his fully back to himself, piecing together new ideas and finding the most efficient ways to get this done.

They all feel the guilt as Tony and Bruce carefully rolled the body over and confirmed what they already knew. His clothes are tattered and worn, it’s hard to tell what was from the building collapse and what was from whatever had happened to him before. Beyond that, his skin is marred, dry and cracked in some places, black and blue and purple bruises in others. He has a dark shiner underneath one of his eyes and a gash across an eyebrow, it’s mostly consistent with the situation and for him it’s relatively unscathed, he’s had much worse.

But when Tony reaches his legs, he nearly loses his lunch-- not that he ate anything more than a quick snack on his way back to the lab, but the metaphor stands. It surprises him a bit, that it made him react so strongly, he has seen much worse. Maybe it’s because seeing a four inch piece of rebar sticking out of your friend’s and teammates leg is a bit different than seeing it in the leg of an enemy.

Steve and Nat come thudding back over, the long backboard is thrust at Bruce and he calls for Steve to hand him the c collar as well. Nat is tossing Tony the bandages for his leg, he can hear Bruce saying they won’t be able to remove the metal bar until they get back to the compound so he needs to wrap it, keep it steady so no further damage is caused. He does, he can’t say it was the best bandage job he’d ever done, but it’ll function as it needs to.

They almost have him ready, Bruce just needs to bandage one more cut he hadn’t seen earlier and then they can take him to the jet but he’d run out of bandaging supplies and sends Nat back for more. She turns on quick feet but is nearly tackled by another body. She’d woken up, barely able to sit long enough for her vision to clear before she raced out of the jet, needing to feel helpful after what she’d done. Bucky extends his arm out and picks her up by the waist and spinning her around gracefully until her face is pressed into his chest and she can’t see what’s happening.

He is afraid of how far down the hole she’ll fall if she knew the love of her life had been in the building when it exploded. He doesn’t want to test the theory either.

She shoves against him trying to pull away, she needs to feel helpful, she needs to know she wasn’t a complete failure. But each time she shoves against the broad expanse of his chest he holds her tighter, he is so afraid of what she’ll feel. She continues her relentless shoving for a few moments longer before realizing Bucky isn’t going to let her go anytime soon. He relaxes his grip a little once she finally relents, but he should’ve known better than to ever let his guard down, he’s sure he’ll never learn. Her knee meets his groin in a quick movement he had no time to even react to and he falls unceremoniously to the ground. He’d get her back for that one day in the sparring ring.

When she sees what his embrace had been hiding her from, she wishes she’d never left. She’s positive that even after all the fighting and how hard her heart had been pounding before, its stopped all together now. She’s gone completely numb, lets the constricting of her chest take over and her legs give out beneath her. Bucky catches her before she falls and hurts herself, she doesn’t need any physical pain to amount on top of the devastating emotional pain she feels now. He’s got his arm back around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. She latches onto his arm, digging her nails into his skin but he doesn’t dare try and break her grip, no matter if it’s starting to break the skin. He knows, he knows that feeling and needing to have someone ground you to the present. And so he lets her dig her nails into his skin, and he holds her weight, keeps her close to his body to provide a comfort he knew she needed.

“Clint!” She wails out his name, and Bucky remembers the last time he heard her cry like this. It had been the day they lost Clint, the day she listened to him die, at least supposedly. He hated how broken she sounded then and now, he could only imagine what she was feeling and the agony of seeing the love of your life alive and in front of you when you thought for so long they were gone but not knowing how long it would stay that way. She buries her head back into his chest when they finally pick him up and get him to the jet.

She’d spend the entirety of the flight home sitting next to the bench in the middle where he was lying, combing her hands through his hair until it was no longer matted from his blood and soot. Nobody dared trying to part her away from his side, Bruce and Tony worked around her as best they could, and Bucky came over periodically to lay a hand on her shoulder and reassure her things would be okay.  She’d always lean into his touch for a moment before returning her attention to Clint, brushing through his hair or taking the wet cloth Bucky had given her at one point to wipe away some of the blood on his face. He knew it wasn’t much, but it’d make her feel less useless.

When they landed, she grabbed onto his hand, burying the pain she felt at its limp, almost lifeless state, and walked with them step for step down to medical. She didn’t part from him when they did the checks, nor when they pulled the nasty piece of rebar from his thigh, or when they stitched him up. She wasn’t going to leave him, never again. She had already lost so much time with him, she wasn’t about to waste another moment. Steve and Bucky both came down a few times, handing her plates of food, and a couple times handing her fresh clothes and supplies to take a shower.

She berates herself when he wakes up and she isn’t there, she is the damn shower after Bucky ordered her to take a break and let the hot water help work out the kinks in her neck. She comes out of the bathroom absentmindedly toweling off her hair to get the last of the drops before they drop onto her shirt, and she hears his chuckle. It’s raspy, from deep in his chest, and it’s a sound she hasn’t heard in a year. It makes her heart skip a few beats and her breath catch, because she can finally tell herself he is alive, that its real and it isn’t a dream.

He is signing with Bucky, both smiling and laughing. He looks so happy, she wishes she could capture this moment and relieve it over and over again. She missed his thousand watt smile, his touch and-- she misses his touch and she realizes how silly it is that she hasn’t made a move to feel his touch. He doesn’t hear her as she approaches, she didn’t expect him to, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in. Everything in him softens when her thumb glides across his jaw, and he sees her for the first time in a year, a long long year. He doesn’t waste any time pulling her down to him and crashing her lips against his. It electric, perfect harmony are so long hearing only the discordant cacophony. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips, parting from him to rest her forehead against his. He can feel the cool mixture of both their tears on his cheeks and he can’t believe it’s real, and so he reassures himself, planting chaste kisses on every available inch of her face. Her lips, her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tears that trail down her cheeks, her nose, every part of her until they are both laughing watery laughs.

She questions it for a moment, lets her brain fall into a loop of overthinking and its bad she knows but she can’t help it, nor can she help the words that slip past her lips before she can tell herself the answer. “You’re alive? You’re real? Not just some cruel dream?” He decides words or signs are going to convey what he needs them to convey and so he relies on his actions. He grabs a hold of one of her hands, bringing it to her chest where she can feel his heart beating away, despite the beeping of the monitor next to him. He spends the moment watching her, memorizing her eyes and her smile, like it’s the first time all over again.

And then, he is trying sit up and she is trying to get him to stay down and rest but his is relentless, signing at her that he is fine and he just needs to sit up for a moment. She knows how stubborn he can get and knows she won’t win this fight so she backs away. He motions at Bucky --who she hadn’t even realized was still in the room, and he reaches into his back pocket and fishes for something, eventually pulling out a pair of Clint’s hearing aids and hands them to him. They have a silent conversation between them and then Bucky’s hand is the small of her back and he leads her away from the bed a bit.

Behind her, Clint is trying to get out of the bed and struggling and she is worried about him but Bucky is doing everything he can to keep her attention on him. He finally gets her attention and works fast because if Clint wasn’t bed ridden, oh he’d be dead. She gasps loudly when Bucky pulls a small black box from his other back pocket and bends down to one knee, revealing a beautiful ring. She gapes at him, and turns to Clint, who looks outright furious at Bucky.

She barely registers what’s happening before something shiny and metal is flying past her face. And she watches in horror as the bedpan from the cabinet is slamming into the side of Bucky’s head. He falls to the ground, laughing his heart out, rubbing his head and she still has no idea what’s going on. But he stands eventually, and levels a glare at Clint who only smirks. He is proud of what he did.

But then as quickly as it happened, the two of them act like nothing happened. Bucky grabs Clint’s arm and supports his weight as he tries to stand. She freaks out a little, her heart jumping around when he winces and stumbles, it’s still to early for him to be putting weight on that leg but damn it, he is going to do it. She is so paranoid about him hurting himself, and in her mind she lets herself slide so far to think she is going to lose him again and she should wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him away from the dangers of the world--

And then she comes back to reality, and time stops for a minute.

He managed to get down to one knee, he’s smiling like the cat that got the canary. He’s chuckling waiting ever so patiently for her to come back to him and his grin widens when she does. He reaches behind him and Bucky gives him the ring box and she only thinks it a bit weird that he is still here, but she doesn't care. She listens to every word that comes from his mouth, and it’s immediately tattooed on her heart.

“There is a lot in this life I could’ve regretted, and I did for a while. But I don’t think I understood what a regret was until I thought I lost the chance to ask you to become my forever. I’ve never regretted anything more than that and I don’t want to waste another minute of you not being my fiance, my wife. So, will you do me that honor? Will you become my wife, my forever?”

Her eyes were glossy, happy tears begging to be let past the barrier. She smiled brightly at him and couldn’t begin to fathom the emotions raging inside her, but the one she could pinpoint above the rest was the feeling of relief, that the world had righted itself again and she was going to spend her forever with him.

“Yes.”

[ladala99]

Spyro Reignited Countdown - Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage

Like Spyro 1, I was obsessed with this game as a kid, to the point that I would grab the controller from guests to march into the Colossus “boss fight” because I found it hilarious. I specifically have a memory of that happening. Probably only happened once.

Anyway, onto the review!

Gameplay

I’m just going to go over the points as they differ from previous titles just to avoid repeating myself too much.

The basic controls are exactly the same as Spyro 1. The models have been updated, but it still essentially feels the same. I really can’t say much here.

As the game progresses, though, Spyro gains new abilities.

He first gets the power to swim underwater, which opens up an entirely different style of gameplay. Honestly, Spyro’s underwater controls are the best underwater controls I’ve had in any game. They just feel right, and the freedom of movement you get makes underwater-heavy levels my absolute favorite in the series. Like Aquaria Towers is my absolute favorite level. Ever. No contest. Just because you can swim anywhere.

Climbing lets you get higher. It doesn’t add much gameplay itself (but was used cleverly in Magma Cone), but allows there to be certain vertical surfaces you can move up without making an awkward staircase or whirlwind. Although really it doesn’t do much of anything a whirlwind doesn’t do other than block progress until you get it and the aforementioned Magma Cone. Kind of underwhelming.

And finally, Headbash. It’s a new move. That’s usable in very specific circumstances. And yet somehow has made it into every game, including The Legend of Spyro and Skylanders. It is super satisfying to Headbash into water (and use it for swimming-in-air glitches) but otherwise it’s not all that impressive.

The only real improvement is swimming, but hey, at least they gave Spyro new abilities. Not sure why you need to bribe a guy to tell you to hold onto a ladder, though.

Collectables

This game keeps the gems, gets rid of the eggs and dragons, and replaces them with orbs.

Orbs are gotten for completing challenges. They’re also scattered around a few homeworlds, but for the most part, NPCs will hand them to you once you complete challenges for them. These challenges have a star rating that shows their relative difficulty. I’d say those star ratings are fairly accurate, for the most part.

It makes it significantly different from dragons, since these challenges vary greatly, from using powerups to do various tasks, to defeating enemies within a time limit, to finding additional collectables around a level. There’s a lot of different challenges, and some are in fact a lot easier than others.

Gems have a new use as well: paying Moneybags to give you new abilities and in many cases let you progress. It’s not all that functionally different from the balloonists telling you that you need X number of whatever collectable to progress, but it does add flavor. And makes you hate that bear. Moneybags is the character Spyro fans love to hate.

Powerups

Superflame gets a huge upgrade from the previous game, becoming a giant fireball that shoots straight at whatever you aim at. You even get a helpful aiming receptacle when you have the powerup. It’s also usable underwater, unlike your regular flame breath, and it has this really cool spiraling star effect that somehow doesn’t affect your aim.

Supercharge is as great as ever, but isn’t nearly as necessary to complete a level. Now, however, almost all (maybe actually all?) of the Supercharge areas have a track you can infinitely circle if you so desire. It’s also used in Speedways in this game, a feature which I neglected to mention in my Spyro 1 review a couple of days ago.

Superjump is used a few times. Neatly animated, but it honestly doesn’t do anything a whirlwind or a ladder wouldn’t be able to do.

Superfreeze is a new powerup used in one level. You use it to freeze enemies in blocks of ice. Neat! It also has a huge range, but since the enemies unfreeze so quickly, it’s best to be right next to them, so that part’s kinda useless.

Superfly is now in a few levels, and it is super overpowered. The developers knew it, and made the timer run out really quickly when you exit the intended area. Much like swimming, though, it adds a great deal of exploration ability to the levels you can use it in. Flying freely is always satisfying.

Invincibility is used once, and it’s pretty neat - allowing you to walk on usually-dangerous terrain. Definitely feels very freeing.

And there’s a combo Superflame/Superfly powerup in one of the last few levels. It does exactly what it says it does, and it’s amazing.

There’s also rocks you can spit, for basically a ranged charge attack. This singlehandedly taught me about arcs in aiming. It wasn’t used too much, though.

And there’s some turret(?) guns in a few levels to blast some particularly strong enemies and break down walls. Again, it taught me a lot about arcs. The fact that it doesn’t show you were exactly it’ll land like most games would is both annoying and satisfying when you figure it out.

Speedways

Forgot about these last time. Speedways now have a hidden challenge involving Hunter, but otherwise they’re pretty similar to the Flights in the first game.

These levels are pretty polarizing because they’re fairly different: they’re free-flying levels where you have to destroy/go through various objects and enemies around the track under a certain time limit. I love them, because I love flying around them. I also really love Hunter’s challenges (even though the last one in this game is way too loud).

Bosses

There’s fewer bosses in this game than the last, but they’re all much improved from the last game. They definitely scale with difficulty, with Ripto being the hardest, and Ripto’s fight is by far the most impressive boss fight in the game, if not the entire series.

Crush is pretty straightforward and is somewhat similar to Spyro 1 bosses: you dodge his attacks, then flame him when you have the chance. The difference is that he attempts to attack you back and ends up harming himself.

Gulp is huge, has two attacks of his own, and also can use the weapons you gain to use against him. This is my favorite type of boss fight, and racing your opponent to the weapons is really fun.

Ripto takes Gulp up to eleven. First two phases you’re fighting him for the powered-up orbs, and then the last phase takes place in the air as you use a combination powerup orb to fly and shoot fireballs at him. No time limit. Great fight. Difficult fight, but great fight.

All in all, very effective bosses.

Levels

They’re well-designed and well-themed. They cover various cartoon locations and are varied and distinct. Unlike the first game, some do require backtracking once you gain new abilities, which is in some ways annoying, but in other ways makes the new abilities more fulfilling. When I was younger, I definitely preferred this method, since I didn’t like saying goodbye to a level forever, but nowadays I just want to get it all done with in one go. So, I’m a bit neutral towards this.

Levels now have NPCs in them that introduce the main task of the level (almost always just to get to the end) and other side-missions which give you orbs. As before, I’m neutral towards this, since I like the simplicity of the first game, but I also love the minigames in this game.

Minigames

This is the one Spyro game with minigames in which I like them all. They’re all integrated into the level, and use the game’s controls in unusual ways to provide more variety. And speaking of variety, they are all very different. From Idol Springs’ puzzle-solving to the dashing around a small cave racing Hunter to crystals in Magma Cone to Trouble With The Trolley(tm) to the trade quest in Mystic Marsh, there’s so many different things you do. You haven’t seen them all until you get to the end.

Story

Spyro wants to go on vacation from the rainy Dragon Realms (as someone also from a rainy city, I get you, Spyro). He decides to head to Dragon Shores for a vacation.

Meanwhile, the citizens of Avalar are altering a portal to hijack a dragon to solve their problems: there’s this guy called Ripto who hates dragons, and he’s decided to take over the place.

Spyro gets transported to Avalar and, at least since Ripto blasted the portal he came from, agrees to help them out. The citizens of Avalar promise to get him to Dragon Shores as soon as they’re able. Friendliest kidnapping ever.

Honestly a bit of an excuse plot just to get Spyro out and somewhere new. But the characters introduced show a lot of personality through both cutscenes and when you speak to them in gameplay.

Each level also has a mini-story mostly unrelated to the overarching story. It’s shown in cutscenes before and after the level, and of course in the level itself. Avalar has more problems than just Ripto, and it takes a fire-breathing dragon who helps the first person to talk to him to sort things out, for better or for worse. (Like seriously, you help thieves in Scorch. And help both sides of the Breeze Builder/Land Blubber war.)

The story isn’t going to make you rethink your life or write deep fanfiction, but it serves its purpose well and is entertaining. Perfect for the Spyro world, even if it gives off a very different feel from the first game.

Unique in the Series?

This game codifies the series. NPCs, powerup gates, minigames, and especially the cast all move on to other games.

The one thing I can think of that’s truly unique to this game is the Soul Particle system - where instead of giving you treasure, slain enemies power the powerup gates. Not a bad system, but definitely is forgettable.

And Elora. She’s in cutscenes in Spyro 3 and in a trading card in Spyro Orange, but this is her only full appearance in the series until the remakes. Which as someone who does not care for romance subplots, I’m fine with. She’s a neat character, but her crush on Spyro would have been her main trait if she stayed in the series, I’m sure.

Conclusion

Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage is tied with the first game as one of my favorite games of all time. It’s fun to play, and I have a huge amount of nostalgia for it. Definitely looking foward to seeing it again on my Switch, with all the graphical improvements.

[footballerimaginess]

Soulmates

Christian Pulisic soulmate bond thing please? Thank you! Maybe a timer count down You and Christian didn't get to see much of one another, you were best friends in school, obviously Christian went on to play football. Everyone thought you were dating at school because you were always tighter, but no that wasn't the case. It was never anything like that. While you watched him play so well in Germany, you were working a dead end job, it was really on the opposite scale. It just wasn't anything exciting, But you were so proud of whatever he did. It was something you wished you could witness more often. It was time for you to face time Christian, there was a huge time difference. But you had just watched Christian play for Borussia Dortmund vs. Real Madrid in the champions league. Unfortunately Dortmund lost but it was so great to watch him. We usually spoke after bad games, it was his way of calming down.  Your phone buzzed and it was time to face time him, "Hi babe" You smiled as you saw his sad face appear. "Sorry for the bad result, I watched it" Christian shrugged his shoulders as he knew he didn't particularly play well. "Its okay babe, it was a real struggle but an honour to play against Madrid." He let out a sigh as he shuffled his body onto his hands as he rested them on it. "I'm literally so excited to come to Dortmund and see you. Is it sad that I have a timer on my phone until I come down and see you?" You had the biggest grin on your face. "Aww show me" He stated as you grabbed the countdown app on your phone which said it. "Here" You said as you show the phone up to the laptop screen.  "Aww that's so cute, its only in two weeks. How long are you here for again?" He asked. "I am only here for a week enough to jut see one game. I am so bored out here, its lonely being here. I feel so distant to everyone and miss you so much" You pouted as you could see Christian look sad too. "Its okay, I am sure you can figure something out. I reckon you can do whatever you dream off. You have got this " Christian gives you some advice. "Thank you Chris, I swear we have some sort of soul mate bond. obviously I don't mean in the relationship way" You smirked. You were so happy that you were finally going to see him after much waiting. "So I will see you in two weeks. How excited are you?" He smiles and nods. "Very excited" He grins again. "Just so you know, I have spoken to all the boys about you. I am pretty sure they think you are my girlfriend" He blushed. "WHAT? Really oh well this is embarrassing. Maybe we can pretend" You cheekily winked. "Oh okay I see how it is babe. If that is how you want to play this game." You laughed as you could see Christian look so embarrassed. "Babe it is fine, we are just best friends. That is quite normal, you know a girl and boy could do things like that. But whatever" You laughed as he went to wave and bow a kiss. "Bye babe, speak to you soon I will text you when we can next face time okay gorgeous" You waved. "Goodbye babe, love you Chris" You blew your kiss.

[oxfordcombat]

Risk

Hey read this or I’ll steal your teeth :)

The room was silent, save for the ticking of a single clock. At the moment, both sides were even, though that was soon to change. Both militaries held the same numbers; that was the law. Any win had to be through skill and skill alone. The problem? That was where the similarities ended. Practice-wise one side couldn’t hope to compare; living in times of peace, Wirenia had scrambled to assemble their troops. After a century of isolation, Avraisa had pounced. The Wirene weren’t ready, given only weeks to prepare.

Common citizens shuffled in their spaces, yanked from serenity to ensure the safety of their land. These men weren’t fighters; they were ordinary: bakers, farmers, and scholars. After knowing only peace, none could begin to imagine war. They wore cobbled armor—leather mostly—chainmail when the kingdom could afford it. The only thing that placed them together on one side was the dark carbon black of the dye, binding each volunteer as a member of the Wirenian brigade. Generals rushed about, preparing for the battle, ordering troops, and arranging lines. All had to be perfect, the kingdom on the line.

The Wirenian were nervous; there had been no conflict in centuries, and a superpower had declared war. They struggled to keep the illusion of stoicism, but their troubled eyes revealed the truth. Besides the war conventions, nothing protected them except the shields at their sides. The codes of conduct were all that subdued their anxiety; the codes protected the weak, and stopped the strong from making decisions that the future generations would regret.

The surroundings did nothing to quell the Wirenians pounding hearts. The room was quiet, too quiet. The fall of a knight’s sword could be heard from the realm over. Wirenia wasn’t ready, and the seemingly tranquil setting only made their fear stand out. Countdown not yet started, the clock still ticked. Wirenia wished to stop time, even for a second. But time marches on, time stops for no one.

In contrast, the Avraisians were immaculate, pristine and pure. Each member of the white kingdom’s cream attire dripped with confidence. Troops lined both sides, teetering on the edge of their respective jurisdictions. The air stood still. Lounging in his makeshift camp, the white king oversaw his troops. He knew victory was imminent. It was as if fear avoided his mind just as dirt avoided his stark white clothes. He would win, another notch under his belt, his land doubled.  He would enjoy this. Gazing at the mismatched Wirenians, the white king knew he could take his time. He smiled, he needn’t care about time, he had practice, records, and a weapon at his side. His new queen sat dutifully next to him, posture perfect, ready for a command. The Avrasian king had everything.  

But looking at the black queen, fair skin against stark black dress, the king’s own wife seemed to dull. After the war he could pick and choose from the Wirene kingdom. She might need replacing. But it was no bother to the white king, she might sadly fall in the war, then he could remarry. He would address that later, this would be over soon enough.

While the Avrasians waited patiently, the Wirenians couldn’t afford that luxury. There was no point, watching their well-trained enemies they knew whatever lives they lead would soon change. The codes protected their lives but nothing else. Once they were captured they would lose their land, be separated from their families and rank, and likely lose all freedoms. They were overcome with fear. Standing in neat rows of eight, there was nothing to do, nothing to distract them. Both sides were alone with their thoughts.

As the Wirenian queen glanced at her counterpart, standing calmly and elegantly near her king, she had to force back nausea. Of course, she was anxious; the queen would be foolish to not be but she loved her people, and for her people she would fight.

The infantry felt fear; they were fodder meant to win, to save lives. Help those more valuable than themselves, that was technically why they fought. On paper, they battled for queen and kingdom, but in their hearts they struggled for their loved ones. For their parents. For their children. The foot soldiers were the only ones equal to their opposite colored counterpart, pawns in the game of war. They held one hope, do well enough to survive and not only would your family live in freedom, but it could also mean promotion. A spot on the court, a place of high stature, and higher benefit. The infantry feared for their lives throughout the battle, but while they had the most to lose, they held the most hope.

The clock ticked. The court quieted, breaths held, shields readied, timer started. Time continued it dreary march but now it counted down. A handshake; two men starting a war that would end kingdoms. They returned to the tents, the war began. Pawns fell first, they were always the first. Then the court began to crumble; though it appeared so, the infantry weren’t the only casualties. Meanwhile, Avraisa slowly lost its sparkling appearance of impenetrability; as the war waged on all suffered. Scarlet on Ivory. Scarlet on eggshell lace. Scarlet on Vanta black velvet. Sunday’s best seeped with blood.

Thinking feverishly the Wirene king sat at his table. The only furniture in the room, a small bland table. He couldn’t waste the training time to make his accommodations more comfortable, they had little preparation as is. The king stressed, trying to save those he could. Who was he to pick and choose who was worthy. Who was he to play god, selecting those to sacrifice and those to save. Running his hands through his hair, the king struggled not to drop his façade of calm; he was all that was holding his men together. If he fell, they all did.

Once again the queen was watching. Waiting, plotting, trying to best trap the white. Looking back the king seemed sick; the once healthy man had aged years in the span of hours. The king was forced to stay back, give the black any hope at all. But she could leave, she could help. No longer could she sit back while her people were brutishly captured and her kingdom fell to the hands of monsters. She had made up her mind, she stood, gave a quick dust to her best and armed herself. Dainty as she appeared, she had been trained by the finest since childhood. The queen was the most powerful player in the wretched game, and for good reason. Bidding a silent goodbye to her love, the queen stepped out of the protected tent. The king, too preoccupied to notice, kept planning. He would have sacrificed himself for his kingdom but he could not. And the war marched on.

The Wirenian queen fought valiantly, leveling the playing field as much as one could. She saved many, evening up the odds. The white king punished her for her generosity; sacrificing much of his court to bring her down. She gave all to her people, and in the end her freedom followed. She took the bait, capturing a bishop before being met with the tip of a sword. A knight stood at her side, pressing his longsword into her shoulder blades. The Wirenian queen went to join the captured, turning around to face the white king’s tent. The Avrasian king stood outside his door, eyeing the black queen. Looking her in the eyes, malice filled his pupils as he dragged a fore finger across his neck. Before she could assess what he meant, the knight that had captured her quickly slit her throat. The black queen fell. Her husband felt her death before he saw it. As if a hole had enveloped his heart, he fell to his knees. Tears tumbled to the floor, neither king felt anything.

His clergy spoke for him, conveying the kingdom’s anguish to the white king when no one else could, recklessly throwing himself at the king’s feet.

“The codes,” cried the bishop—for he had loved the queen as his own—“That wasn’t part of the codes! The court is to be captured and returned at the end of the war!” But it was far too late, the beloved queen was dead. Her dark silk saturated with red as she lay slain across the colored tiles. White left her alone on the ivory tiles to be collected after all was said and done, as if she was dust yet to be swept. The bishop wailed at her death—at the injustice of it all—he had raised her and was forced to watch her fall. The white king lounged idly, waiting for the bishop to finish. He watched the bishops anguish with the cool attitude of indifference. No matter, his time was precious and with a snap of his fingers a sword appeared through the bishop. The wailing stopped.

Lying near his queen on the bloodstained floor, the bishop muttered a quick prayer with his dying breath. A prayer for the queen who loved her people, a prayer for the fallen, and lastly a prayer for his king, as to not only win the war but live after he had finished. His eyes stilled, hands falling to the ground; the black bishop was no more.

The white king had forgotten already, what didn’t concern him was not important. Wirenia was inconsequential,  nothing could distract him from his goal. He beckoned for another grape. Now that the codes were out of the way he could get to the real fun.

White’s rampage met no decline, he slaughtered all that came into his pristine grasp. Watching with glee as more soldiers fell; this war was coming to a close. And like always white would emerge on top.

Meanwhile, the black king could no longer afford to command from behind the lines, lest his kingdom fall while he cower. Donning his chainmail and helmet, he squared his shoulders and hoisted his sword. Gruffly pushing the tent flap away, he saw sunlight for the first time in hours. Ignoring the glared he marched steadily towards the center of the field. The Wirenian king: widowed, disrespected, and heartbroken; set out to avenge his kingdom. The white king grew excited, readying quickly, stepping over the black queen. The codes were broken, but there would be no one to remember that, and his people were loyal. No one would be caught dead letting this secret loose. The final move was always his favorite, and for the trouble this kingdom caused, he would enjoy it, immensely.  The king’s emerged to face one another. Both kings held a sea of emotion. Compassion hadn’t crossed the Avrasian king’s face since childhood and now only bloodlust filled his graying eyes. While the white king felt glee, the black king knew only sadness, he had wanted nothing more than a happy kingdom with his wife and people, now he had neither. His sadness made him strong, compressing into his veins into shards of pure steel. The black king would not be conquered nor killed or belittled by one who kept his garments cleaner than his morals. No he would give his all, for all he had lost he would claim victory.

Fortunately, the Wirenian king had risen to power for a reason. He fought for his people, and he fought well. The black king alone was a one-man army, an army hell-bent on destroying he who had taken everything. Eventually the Wirenian could no longer identify one emotion from the other, sadness and rage blurring together. His thoughts became background, until weariness was all he found in his mental sift. Stepping forward Black slayed the last of the Avrasian knights, cutting all mental flow. He quickly squashed any humanity he held for white; they weren’t the king, nor his actions, but they had sat complacent as young men died needlessly.

In his haste to finish his battle, he had made a fatal mistake. The Wirenian king had forgotten his principals. Caught unassuming, Black had been trapped in his vengeance, pinned like his cherished. The Avrasian king grinned, hands no longer pristine but stained with blood. His teeth cruel and shimmering, a kingdom killing smile. A lying smile, a brutish smile, a smile one could hate.

The queen fluttered across the board, adjusting her bodice as she crossed.  Discarding her sword, she pulled a dagger. The kiss of death, it was the way. The way a kingdom dies. The white queen smiled, if that was what one could call the emotion gracing her glossed lips.

“No,” the white king spoke—ending what felt like a year of silence—much to the surprise of the queen and her prey. “I want to do it.”

“But… what about the codes? They strictly forbid this!” both queen and trapped exclaimed.

“Not like anyone’s alive to verify.” Speaking in a cool tone, the Avrasian king gestured to their wake of death surrounding them. His wife was new, but even she wouldn’t be dull enough to throw away this opportunity. To be queen to a nation undefeated, and soon to encompass the entire northern region of Kiatone. Dozens of girls would kill for her placement. Younger, smarter, prettier girls. On second thought, maybe it would be best if she would argue.

“My love, we must have honor, if nothing else, I beg.” The white queen felt fear cross her face, what was her husband doing? She had taken all of her life to get here. Working the hardest in court, manipulating, balancing odds, playing key members off of each other to accomplish her goals. She had destroyed for her position, groomed for queendom; and she would not allow some man on an ego trip to wrench her future away from her. She rose her dagger, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, she was finishing him. Pity she thought, he was good of heart, a strong leader and a fierce warrior. But there was no place for the good of heart in battle. Expecting satisfaction, she felt only the sharp end of her lover’s sword.

“To hell with you,” speaking with contempt, “you were never good enough anyway, I never should have settled. How about this, after winning the war, you sadly passed from your wounds? My, my, how sad; the kingdom will mourn, another queen lost, soon enough you will be forgotten, they all were. And I will come back victorious; you never mattered, there is no end to the line of waiting brides. I always win, no matter what.” His betrayal sparked no emotion in him, it wasn’t his first and it wouldn’t be his last. But the show must go on. He twisted the knife a final time, the white queen falling limp to the ground. “A shame this all could have been prevented, if you had known your place.

The black king felt true remorse, he understood now, it wasn’t the whole kingdom. A single spore had molded the Avraisen lineage, the black king uttered a prayer for his people, awaiting his demise. He was at peace, staring death in the eyes, death’s grin gleamed back. Death upon this day wore a white cloak.

The Avrasian king leapt forward waiting for his flinch or scream, but no such wish was granted. Black stared him down, he would sooner greet the devil as a friend than bow to the whims of a monster. He would not yield today.  

“My people will never bow to the likes of you,” the pinned king spat.

“What people?” The white king’s voice dripped with animosity, raising his blade. Smiling the animal sprung.

And froze.

The Avrasian king collapsed, dead. The lone survivor couldn’t believe what had happened. White had run out of time; Black had done the unthinkable. Won.

Standing, his knees nearly gave out. These last hours had been taxing.

“Good game,” Black shook the dead king’s hand, flabbergasted. The Wirenians were victorious, but because of the Avrasian king’s scorched earth campaign, no one had won. Overrun with loneliness, the sole survivor knelt; and cried. Having no one left, the Wirenian king was truly alone.

The black ruler limped across the checkered board, whispering a prayer for his fallen people. As he passed he gently closed the eyes of his devoted bishop, cleaning his cross and returning it to his hand. He was a good man, killed in cold blood; hopefully to find a happy afterlife. The king continued on losing will. Reaching his wife, he sat beside her, no regards for the wreckage around him. He cradled her head in his arms, crying silently. Against all odds, they had succeeded, Wirenia had won the war. But the black king couldn’t help but think, at what cost?

Not knowing what else to do the king laid down on the blood splattered checkers, still holding his wife.

The king of all and nothing did not stand back up.

Once again the world was still.

    The children commanding their armies got up; shaking hands, they left. Plans to play again tomorrow. No grudges held, no resentment. For that was not how chess was played.

[undertale-rho]

Underearth: Book 1 - Chapter 27

Moments after Frisk entered the curtained area, just as he predicted, Alphys called again.

"Okay, I'm back!" Alphys said through the phone.

"You never said you were leaving." Frisk responded.

"Oh, uh... sorry." There was a momentary pause. "A-another dark room, huh?" she finally said. "Don't worry! M-my hacking skills have got things covered!"

Your hacking skills seem to be rather situational. Frisk thought to himself, thinking back to the numerous puzzles that he's had to solve on this mountain.

After a few seconds, lights flickered to life, along with a massive flat-screen TV hanging on a large pillar to Frisk's left. To his right, Frisk could see a large cardboard surface, the TV screen showed him what was on the other side. Mettaton, along with a large news set with Frisk himself right in the middle. Mettaton himself was in the bottom-right corner of the screen behind a desk that read "MTT".

"Are you serious?" Frisk and Alphys said simultaneously.

"OHHHHHH YESSS!!!" Mettaton began. "GOOD EVENING, BEAUTIES AND GENTLEBEAUTIES! THIS IS METTATON, REPORTING LIVE FROM MTT NEWS! AN INTERESTING SITUATION HAS ARISEN IN MID-HOTLAND! FORTUNATELY, OUR CORRESPONDENT IS OUT THERE, REPORTING LIVE!" He gestured towards Frisk. "BRAVE CORRESPONDENT! PLEASE FIND SOMETHING NEWSWORTHY TO REPORT! OUR TEN WONDERFUL VIEWERS ARE WAITING FOR YOU!!"

Frisk looked around the area. He saw six items of noteworthiness (of course, being the only items there, anything was noteworthy): A basketball; a glass of water; a book; a white, motionless dog; a decorated box; and a small black case.

Frisk decided to approach the closest, being the basketball. As he got close, Mettaton began speaking.

"BASKETBALL'S A BLAST, ISN'T IT, DARLING? TOO BAD YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH THESE BALLS. THEY'RE MTT-BRAND FASHION BASKETBALLS. FOR WEARING, NOT PLAYING. YOU CAN'T GET RICH AND FAMOUS LIKE MOI WITHOUT BEAUTIFYING A FEW ORBS. REPORT THIS?"

Frisk looked around the room again. "Nah, I'm sure there's more interesting things around here." He said as he walked towards the glass of water.

"OH MY!!!! IT'S A COMPLETELY NONDESCRIPT GLASS OF WATER. BUT ANYTHING CAN MAKE A GREAT STORY WITH ENOUGH SPIN!"

"You're kidding, right? How could you make a glass of water seem interesting? Perhaps to someone who's never seen one before, you could."

"WHY NOT REPORT IT AND FIND OUT!" Mettaton responded. Frisk almost did simply out of curiosity but managed to stop himself and head towards the book. As it came into view, Mettaton began freaking out a bit.

"OH NO!!! THAT MOVIE SCRIPT!!! HOW'D??? THAT GET THERE??? IT'S A SUPER-JUICY SNEAK PREVIEW OF MY LATEST GUARANTEED-NOT-TO-BOMB FILM: METTATON THE MOVIE XXVIII... STARING METTATON! I'VE HEARD THAT LIKE THE OTHER FILMS... IT CONSISTS MOSTLY OF A SINGLE FOUR-HOUR SHOT OF ROSE PETALS SHOWERING ON MY RECLINING BODY. OOH!!! BUT THAT'S!!! NOT CONFIRMED!! YOU WOULDN'T *COUGH* SPOIL MY MOVIE FOR EVERYONE WITH A PROMOTIONAL STORY, WOULD YOU?"

Frisk could tell this was planted by Mettaton just to get this sort of cover, but he wouldn't fall for it. "Not a chance." he said, stepping away from the book.

"PHEW!!! THAT WAS CLOSE!! YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A BUNCH OF FREE ADVERTISEMENT!!"

Frisk headed up towards the small white dog. Mettaton immediately began his charade when Frisk got close to it.

"OH, WHAT A SENSATIONAL OPPORTUNITY FOR A STORY! I CAN SEE THE HEADLINE NOW: 'A DOG EXISTS SOMEWHERE.' FRANKLY, I'M BLOWN AWAY."

Frisk was beginning to get the feeling that Mettaton was just screwing with him by now, and just walked toward the decorated box without saying anything.

"OH MY! IT'S A PRESENT! AND IT'S ADDRESSED TO YOU, DARLING! AREN'T YOU JUST BURSTING WITH EXCITEMENT? WHAT COULD BE INSIDE? WELL, NO TIME LIKE THE 'PRESENT' TO FIND OUT!"

Frisk had never received a present before, at least not recently, but he couldn't help but feel really skeptical about everything in the area. In the end, he just decided to check out the black case.

"OOH LA LA! THIS VIDEO GAME YOU FOUND... IS DYNAMITE!!! THOUGH I DON'T MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN IT UNTIL THREE-FOURTHS IN. BUT I LIKE THAT. APPEARING FROM THE HEAVENS LIKE MANNA, SLAKING THE AUDIENCE'S HUNGER FOR GORGEOUS ROBOTS...  OOH! THAT'S METTATON! REPORT THIS ONE?"

Frisk took one last look around the room, then let out a sigh. "Yeah, let's report the game." he said. As he finished, all the lights went out except a few, which now cast a spotlight right onto him, as well as all the ones on Mettaton.

"ATTENTION, VIEWERS! OUR CORRESPONDENT HAS FOUND... A VIDEO GAME! THIS ACTION-PACKED GAME IS GUARANTEED TO BLOW YOU AWAY! STRANGE ENEMIES! STRANGE ALLIES! ATTRACTIVE ROBOTS! FEATURING UP TO SIX ARBITRARY DIALOGUE CHOICES AT ONCE! CORRESPONDENT! LET'S LOOK INSIDE THE CASE!"

Frisk opened the case, though what was inside was not what he expected at all. "THOSE RED CYLINDERS WITH BURNING FUSES..." Mettaton started again, "OH NO! THIS GAME LITERALLY IS DYNAMITE! I GUESS THEY WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG!!! VIDEO-GAMES DO CAUSE VIOLENCE! OR AT LEAST THIS ONE'S ABOUT TO. BUT DON'T GET TOO EXCITED! YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN THE REST OF THE ROOM YET!"

When he finished that sentence, there was a loud booming sound and the curtain surrounding the area fell down, drifting off into the magma below. The cardboard sheet and desk Mettaton was near also suddenly began falling down as well. The rafters holding the lights too came down, falling into the magma below. Everything fell except for the rocky area, Frisk, Mettaton, the six items, and the massive TV. The area was now lit with its natural glow once again.

"OH MY!" Mettaton said. "IT SEEMS EVERYTHING IN THIS AREA IS ACTUALLY A BOMB!" Frisk looked around at the items. It was true. The box was open, and inside was a spherical black bomb, the dog's tail was lit, the movie script had a bomb resting on it's now opened surface, the basketball was slightly faded now, revealing part of a black bomb, and the glass of water was now rocketing around the area.

"BRAVE CORRESPONDENT... IF YOU DON'T DEFUSE ALL OF THE BOMBS..."

Mettaton flew up to the TV and pressed a button, causing the screen to change to a countdown timer, set to two minutes.

"THIS BIG BOMB WILL BLOW YOU TO SMITHEREENS IN TWO MINUTES! THEN YOU WON'T BE REPORTING 'LIVE' ANY LONGER! HOW TERRIBLE! HOW DISTURBING! OUR NINE VIEWERS ARE GOING TO LOVE WATCHING THIS! GOOD LUCK, DARLING!!"

"D-don't worry!" Alphys said through the phone after being silent for all of Mettaton's dialogue. "I installed a bomb-defusing program on your phone! You can use it to defuse all the bombs."

"What made you think to install a bomb-defusing program onto my phone!? Is Mettaton so predictable that you knew he'd do this?" Frisk questioned.

"Uhh... y-yeah. N-now, go get 'em!" Alphys responded before the call dropped.

Frisk pulled up the home screen and found a program labelled "BOMB DEFUSAL" and pressed it. Once done, an antenna extended from the top-right side of the phone. The screen had a green line going across from left to right every few seconds, and a green button at the bottom that said "DEFUSE". Looking up, he found that the bombs had been scattered around the area, and the only one still where it should be was the white dog.

Frisk pointed his phone at the dog, and an outline in green showed up on the phone. A green box surrounded the outline, shaking around for a bit before stabilizing along with the showing up of the text "locked on". Immediately after this text showed up, Frisk pressed the DEFUSE button. Once pressed, the dog sank down and fell over. Frisk then looked around for the next explosive.

Overhead, Frisk noticed the extremely agile glass of water soaring through the 'sky'. Pointing his phone at it, Frisk attempted to defuse it next. After a few seconds and a bit of hassle getting it to lock on, it finally took, and was defused. Once defused, the jet of fire out the back ceased, and the glass fell from the 'sky', landing not too far from where Frisk was, and exploded.

Cutting left, Frisk ran down a set of pipes. Off to the right was a set of lasers and the video-game-bomb. Bypassing the lasers, Frisk reached the game-bomb and defused it. He then did this to every other bomb in the area, the script on a conveyor, the present on an island, and the basketball near the pillar the TV was hanging on. After defusing each and every bomb, Mettaton once again spoke up.

"WELL DONE, DARLING!" he said. "YOU'VE DEACTIVATED ALL OF THE BOMBS! IF YOU DIDN'T DEACTIVATE THEM, THE BIG BOMB WOULD HAVE EXPLODED IN TWO MINUTES. NOW IT WON'T EXPLODE IN TWO MINUTES! INSTEAD IT'LL EXPLODE IN TWO SECONDS!" Mettaton pressed a switch and the countdown timer re-appeared on the screen, displaying two seconds. "GOODBYE, DARLING!" the timer ticked slowly down to zero, Frisk watching in silent horror, backing away from the screen. However, once the timer hit zero, nothing happened, and nothing continued to happen for many seconds after. Eventually, Mettaton spoke again.

"AH. IT SEEMS THE BOMB ISN'T GOING OFF." he said. After he said that, he began ringing again for a second before it stopped and Alphys's voice came from the metal box that was his body.

"That's b-because!!!" Alphys began, "While you were monologuing... I...!!! I f... fix... Um... I ch-change..."

"OH NO. YOU DEACTIVATED THE BOMB WITH YOUR HACKING SKILLS." Mettaton finished for her.

"Yeah! That's what I did!"

"CURSES! IT SEEMS I'VE BEEN FOILED AGAIN! CURSE YOU, HUMAN! CURSE YOU, DR. ALPHYS, FOR HELPING SO MUCH!" Mettaton then turned toward the camera. "BUT I DON'T CURSE MY EIGHT WONDERFUL VIEWERS FOR TUNING IN!!! UNTIL NEXT TIME, DARLING!" Mettaton then flew off, far out of view.

"W-wow..." Alphys said through Frisk's phone this time. "W-we really showed him, huh?" She then went silent for a minute. "H-hey, I know I was kind of weird at first... But I really think I'm getting more... Uh, more... M-more confident about guiding you!"

"I don't need to be guided, Alphys." Frisk interrupted. "I thank you for helping me with the bombs, but I'm doing just fine guiding myself."

"O-oh..." she went silent for a while longer. "S-sorry..." she eventually said before the call then dropped.

Frisk stashed the phone back into his pocket and found his way forward, back on track. After marching up a rather steep and narrow hill, Frisk found himself staring straight at the CORE once again. Pressing forward, he found the elevator, which turned out to be the upper section of the pillar the TV hung on. This elevator had the glowing letter and number "L2" hanging above its door. Entering the elevator, Frisk noticed that four of the six buttons were glowing this time, both bottom ones, the right-middle one, and the top-left one. Pressing the top-left one, the elevator proceeded to ascend. Half a minute later, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to a once again new area.

A Whole New World : Explosive Entertainment

Previous First Next

[lumpy-veev]

Here’s request number two! Kalo babysitting the heroes, and everything going to shit, requested by @prussiastronk​. Sorry this one took so long, I hope you enjoy!

Kalo Babysitting the Heroes

Kalo lazed on the couch with a book in his hand.

The heroes were at school, and he had just finished his latest mission, so he had a rare, quiet moment to himself where nothing was happening and he could just relax.

“Kalo?” said Doctor H, approaching him nervously.

“Hm?” Kalo’s eyes shifted from the pages in his hand to the introvert in front of him.

“I’ve been invited to do a panel for the Universal Inventor’s Convention on another planet,” said Doctor H. “So I’ll be gone for the next week or so. If it’s not too much work, could you take care of the heroes for me?”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” Kalo replied, thinking nothing of it in the moment.

“Thanks! I got contacts and general things-to-dos on the fridge if you need them!”

————————————

The second Kalo and the heroes waved Doctor H. goodbye, the weight of the situation began to settle in.

Kalo panicked a little. Did he even know how babysit them?

Ok, he thought, combing through the situation in his head, I can cook, and I can clean. If they need help with homework, I’m decent at math and stuff. Plus they aren’t actually babies. I’m pretty sure they can take care of themselves well enough…

Huh. Maybe I can do this.

————————————

The day started with a literal bang.

Actually, it was more of thundering BOOM.

Kalo bolted upright in bed. Careful S. threw a worried glance in his direction. He was awake too.

“Do you think it’s an attack?” Kalo whispered.

“D'know,” mumbled Careful S, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Let’s go check,” the two of them slipped out, meeting Careless S, Happy S, and Smart S. outside.

“We gotta see what happened, but be careful,” said Kalo, “It could be anything.”

The others nodded, quietly making their way downstairs. 

“ARE THERE MONSTERS?!” Happy S. leapt ahead, ready for a battle. 

“Happy S, wait-!” Kalo called out. “Huh?”

They were all greeted with the sight of Sweet S, who was coughing in front of the kitchen, which currently had smoke billowing out of it.

It turns out that the loud noise they heard was not a monster, but Sweet S. having an cooking accident. To Kalo’s relief, she escaped unscathed.

“I wanted to make breakfast for you all to save Kalo some work,” she explained sheepishly.

Aww, Kalo smiled a little, his heart warmed at the sentiment.

“I think I left the pan on the stove for too long,” she continued to speak. “But everything blew up when I added the soy-sauce. Maybe I grabbed the wrong bottle…”

“Well, what did you get?” Smart S. asked, slightly intruiged by how Sweet S. managed to blow up the entire kitchen just by grabbing the wrong thing.

“I used this,” she pulled out a slightly charred bottle.

“Hey, I remember! That’s my bottle of gasoline!” Careless S. points out. “But I thought I put it in the fridge?”

“G-Gasoline?!” Sweet S. gasps.

“Nevermind that, how’s the kitchen?” asked Kalo, peeking into the smoking room.

The damage was actually pretty bad. The stove was pretty much gone, and it was at the center of a giant, burnt, black starburst that radiated across the entire kitchen.

The only thing that was still somewhat okay was the fridge, which only had a few scorch marks across the door of it.

At least the fridge’s okay, thought Kalo. I maybe I should call someone to clean this place up.

“Um, Kalo, what’re we gonna have for breakfast?” Happy S. asks, his stomach audibly growling.

“Hmm,” Kalo racked his head for ideas.

“How does take-out sound?” Kalo decided. The heroes chimed back with agreement.

Welp, take-out it is then.

—————————————–

Kalo sighed, strolling through the market.

Sweet S. used everything that was left in the fridge, but of course, the ‘incident’ left eveything burnt and inedible.

So here he was, buying food for dinner.

“Don’t blow the house up while I’m gone!” Kalo had said, but now he was worried that he’d jinxed something.

Dang it, he mentally groaned, it’s only the first day. Am I’m gonna be able to last a week?

Bag of groceries in hand, he began to make his way home. Bright blue flames licked the air around him as he dematerialized into nothing but a blaze of hot blue energy.

Kalo raced home, weaving through buildings and trees, until it thinned out into the familiar desert-like terrain their house was located.

As he got closer, he was relieved to find that the house was still very much intact.

He landed near the entrance and walked in.

“Hey guys, I’m back!” Kalo was greeted to the sight of the five heroes silently sitting on the couch.

They all looked…suspiciously guilty.

Except for Careful S.

He just looked really, really unamused.

Kalo locked eyes with Careful S, and his eyes briefly flicked upwards.

So something happened upstairs, he thought, mentally translating the glance.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Kalo asked, opting not let the rest of them know that he suspected them of anything. He set the groceries on the dinner table.

“No, not at all!” Happy S. grinned nervously, his voice rising an octave higher than normal. The rest of them were trying and failing to seem aloof.

“Really?”

“Yup!”

Kalo raised a brow.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “I’m going upstairs. Tell me if-”

“Wait!” Smart S. yelped. “Do you really need to go upstairs? Maybe you can…uh…dooo something downstairs!”

Careful S. put a hand to his forehead, letting out a small sigh.

The other heroes cringed. They really weren’t good at lying.

Kalo raised a brow.

“I think I’ll go upstairs,” he stepped into the elevator and headed up.

—————————————

The first thing he noticed, was the smell of smoke. It was acrid and metallic.

A bomb.

Then he saw the second floor, or rather, the state it was in.

It looked just like the kitchen, if not worse. The walls were scorched black, and there was a hole in the back of the ceiling.

For a solid minute, Kalo just stood there, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing.

The heroes came up the elevator right behind him, filing out behind him.

“Uh…we can explain?” Careless S. said timidly.

Kalo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please do.”

—————————————

Happy S. slammed his workbook closed.

His homework was finished! Now he could play with the others!

Happy S. raced downstairs. Smart S. and Sweet S. were watching some cheesy soap opera. Careful S. was there too, fiddling with a rubix cube.

“You guys wanna play soccer?” He asked.

“I’m down with that,” Smart S. shrugged. He turned to Sweet S. “Tell me who the murderer is at the end!”

“Mm,” Sweet S. nodded a little, most of her attention still on the screen.

“Hey Careful S, how about you?” Happy S. poked his head. Careful S. sighed and pocketed his rubix cube.

Might as well join. It was easier to give in anyways.

“We should go get Careless S,” said Smart S.

So they made their way upstairs, and Happy S. knocked on his door.

“Careless S.~? Come play soccer with us!”

The door opened with a click, and Careless S. stepped out.

He was holding a bomb.

“Soccer sounds great!” He chirped.

The other heroes gasped and stumbled back. Careless S. blinked, then realized why the others were so startled.

“Ooh, are you guys worried about this? Well, don’t worry, this is an audio-bomb I’ve been working on! It’ll only start if some says 'begin detonation countdown’!” Careless S. stands there, grinning innocently.

The bomb’s timer lit up and began to tick down. The heroes began to panic.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Smart S. shrieked.

“Uh, uh, I forgot how!” Careless S. said, his mind pulling a blank. In a panic, he threw the bomb to Smart S, who in turn, threw it to Happy S. like a game of hot potato.

Happy S. attempted to throw the bomb to Careful S, but as soon as the bomb left his hands, Careful S. stepped to the side and teleported away, not wanting to deal with the bomb.

KABOOM

The bomb exploded, blackening the walls and taking out a part of the ceiling with it.

Sweet S. rushed upstairs in a panic.

“Guys, I heard an explosion! Is everyone-?” Sweet S. coughed and waved away the smoke in her face. She froze when she saw the extent of the damage.

For a few seconds, it was just silence.

Then Happy S. spoke up.

“Kalo’s not gonna be happy.”

—————————————-

And he wasn’t.

“I was gone for TWENTY MINUTES.” He’d said, exasperated.

The rest of the day was spent cleaning the upstairs area, redoing the wall paper, and patching the hole in the ceiling.

It was dark out by the time they had completely finished. The upstairs area was pretty much normal once they were done.

Kalo sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Well, he thought, at least that’s over with.

Brrrrrring! Brrrrrring!

The phone rattled in its holder.

“Hello?” Kalo picked it Up. It was Doctor H.

“Hey Kalo! So it turns out the convention’s been canceled. Something about an important person being really sick. So I’ll actually be back sometime by tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“Oh okay!” Kalo replied.

After hanging up, he let out a yawn and headed to bed. He said goodnight to Careful S, tucked himself in, and rolled over.

What a day, Kalo thought. At least I’m not gonna have to deal with a week of this.

Although…

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something.

——————————————-

THE KITCHEN.

Kalo bolted upright in bed, this time not from any loud noise, but from the realization that he would have to practically redo the entire kitchen before Doctor H. came home.

“Careful S, wake up!” Kalo hissed through clenched teeth. Careful S.’s eyes popped open.

“What-?”

“Meet me outside the kitchen, I’m getting the others.”

After rounding up four more sleepy heroes, he began to explain the situation.

“Isn’t Doctor H. coming home five days later?” asked Careful S.

“Well, funny thing is…he’s actually coming home today. This afternoon,” Kalo said sheepishly.

Suddenly, the heroes didn’t seem so sleepy.

Kalo looked at the clock.

8:30 am

They had at least three hours and 30 minutes. Four hours if they were lucky.

“Alright, this isn’t the best situation, but if we buckle down and get to work, we can finish this,” said Kalo. “And don’t worry, I’ll order breakfast.”

———————————————-

Doctor H. stretched when he got off the taxi.

A happy sigh escaped his mouth. It felt good to be home.

He grabbed his luggage, and plodded up the stairs.

“Guys, I’m back!” He called, knocking on the door. Kalo was the one who answered the door.

“Welcome home,” he smiled. Everyone was on the couch, watching TV. It seemed everything was fine.

“I’m gonna go grab something to eat,” Doctor H. passed his luggage off to Kalo, who seemed just a little tenser than before.

He opened the fridge and scanned its contents.

Bread, cheese, ham, hmmmm…I guess I’ll make myself a sandwich.

As he made his meal, he couldn’t help but feel something was off.

“I could’ve sworn the wall paper was a darker shade of yellow.” Doctor H. thought aloud.

…

“Mm. Probably my head messing with me.”

Unbeknownst to Doctor H, Kalo had just doubled over with relief.

[spydre]

We Don't Have Time For A Gang War

 (Game Date: 4/15/2021)

(Or, This Was Supposed To Be A Side Quest)

There we stood, betwixt the carnage of our skirmish with the Masques and the rubble of their demolished drug factory.  My ears were still ringing from the explosion (Katrya's suppliers have top-shelf military supplies) when the foxkin began herding everyone into various vehicles.   Mostly she sorted them by age and state of injury; those she deemed more at-risk were directed into the "junk" van, while the rest she wanted in Frank.  The new mission, as she saw it and I could not dispute, was to clear out Varfana's shop.  

I waved them ahead, because I wanted to stay behind long enough to harvest a BANlink from one of the fallen gangers.  Gordianus also stayed, because she wanted to try to gather intel from the neighborhood (she actually did overhear a number of conversations, which may prove useful later).  I wished her luck, but also bade her be careful.  Then I took my stolen tek and mounted the Owlet.

I was headed for the mech shop; Frank for the weapon shop to help clear it out.  During the flight, Lohrig got a text which read, "You messed up," and then Varfana's shop exploded.  No one was hurt, thankfully, and most of the important equipment was cleared out, but damn.  We can be grateful for Katrya's quick thinking.

Another message followed quickly:  "Your next delivery is you. One hour. Mess this one up and we order take-out instead."  

They needed somewhere to lay low, and I needed to put together a plan.  I suggested Sanctuary.  If Border Patrol couldn't track down their missing agents, then I highly doubted that any drug-peddling street thugs could, no matter how determined.  

I wasted about five minutes with swearing and self-recrimination.  We had stopped our little caffeine-pill operation specifically to avoid starting crap with these street gangs, and now here we were, smack in the middle of a full-fledged war.  I should have seen this coming.  I should have planned better.  

And now, here I have this BANlink, which has contacts and records, but without an active call, I can't trace anything.  To make matters worse, the younger members of our cabal are badly shaken, and are asking me to leave them out of future schemes that may involve straight-up murder.

We've been hit in the morale.  Time to actually use my brain for something besides keeping my hair in place.

Okay.  What do we actually know?

The boss recruits by intimidation.  When faced with any sort of resistance, he retaliates and escalates.  Right now, he wants Lohrig, which means we absolutely cannot let him have Lohrig.  But what else?  He made an "or else" threat, so if he doesn't get what he wants, then he will move against the kid's family.  Maybe he will, even if he does get what he wants.  

I sent Katrya, along with her choice of backup, to check out the family residence.  She knows what explosives, and suspicious people, look like, and is more than capable of disarming both.  I also send Maggy ahead to the spot where Lohrig is supposed to deliver himself.  That should buy a bit of breathing room.  How much?  I had Parker set a countdown timer.  Damn.  Not much at all.

Next.  We don't have any drones that match the kid's body type.  I can simulate his face well enough with a FakeFace(TM) necklace, but that's about it.  I fed Lohrig's voice, and my plan, to Parker, slung the Dawn drone onto my Owlet, then made book for Sanctuary. 

The idea bubbling up was this:  If we could pass Dawn off as the dwarf boy, then perhaps we can ambush their pickup.  There is bound to be an active call going on, because the Masque boss will not be able to resist monitoring the kid's punishment.  That should give me another chance to trace his location.  

But, to do that, I need to get my people, and Lohrig's BANlink, all of which are out at comms-dead Sanctuary.  The clock is ticking.

It took Vamir a couple of tries to get the illusion right on the drone.  If we weren't already in motion, the delay would have made us late for the rendezvous.  All I could do was fidget.  To keep myself busy, I worked out a new packet for my anthrodrone virus, telling them to beat any Masque senseless, rip off their mask, and send a picture of their face to Border Patrol.  Gave it a five-day lifespan, to keep them from weaponizing the order against innocents.  It made me feel better.

Only a few minutes remained when we pulled up, invisibly, to the broken-down playground.  Vamir spotted a spy-eye, He saw the brand name (Floating Eye) and that it was tagged with the Masque logo.  He could probably have read the serial number if it hadn't been filed off.  I immediately started hacking into its signal.  

About this time, a call came through on Lohrig's BAN.  Parker picked up.

 "You messed up, kid. You messed up big-time.  And now your family is paying the price. How does that make you feel?"

Parker hesitated.  I would have liked to guide my VP through the conversation, but the hack was giving me trouble, and I couldn't afford to split my attention.  I just told her to keep them on the line as long as possible.  

 "I... I feel... sad."

"You should. It's your fault, what happened to the family shop. You had a simple job, to make deliveries, but your failure... Well, that's the kind of guilt you're going to have to carry for the rest of your life."

Parker approximated a sobbing sound.  Quite seriously, I don't think it would have fooled someone who was expecting a deception, but the caller (almost certainly the Masque boss) was in it for the gloat.

"Hush now. Don't worry. I have something for you. Go to the slide."

"W-... what's at the slide?"

"You'll see. It's a gift."

Bingo!  I found the pilot of the spy-eye.  Traced the drone's signal back to his ban and heard him describing all the visible action to someone who sounded exactly like the voice on Lohrig's BAN.  I started tracing that call back.

About this time Parker (driving Dawn (disguised as Lohrig)) reached the rusty slide, and was directed by the caller to take a package  that was taped beneath it.  She, being cautious, asked what was in it.

"Like I said, a gift. Something that will take away your guilt. Take it."

"That is a bomb," warned Katrya, who, like all of us, was eavesdropping over the commlink.

This situation really irritated me.  I didn't want to lose this 20k hardware investment over some stupid homemade bomb, but neither did I want the caller to hang up before the trace was complete.  I told Parker to proceed, but be ready to throw the package at the pilot's location.  So she retrieved it, and took a peek.  

Wires,  flashing lights, plastique.

"Good," crooned the slimy voice.  "Now all you have to do, is let go. Let go, and you won't have to carry this guilt anymore."

"Don't throw that, Parker!" I ordered.

Vamir said, "There's probably a remote detonation switch."

"I'm on it," from Ryatt.  Mere seconds later, he reported, "Remote detonater is off, but I can't do anything about the deadman switch."

I was past the first VPN,  and had the call back to the same sector of the city as before.  "Parker," I said, "don't throw -- run toward the drone pilot.  Gang, we are going to try to take a prisoner."

I could hear the pilots panicked reaction over my hijacked link through his drone.  He was completely freaked out to see the poor sad little dwarf boy kick up his heels and run straight towards his parked hardshell.  He was even more freaked out when his remote detonator didn't work - he kept pressing it, repeatedly, screaming over his BANlink, "I'm trying, it's not going off!"

One more creepy, ominous portent arrived over Lohrig's BANlink: "You don't learn quickly. Goodbye, kid. Shame you'll never get to say goodbye to your family."  Then the call terminated...but not before I managed to nail the location.  Sector, street, apartment.  Gotcha.

Looking up, I saw everything moving very quickly.  We had the pilot's van surrounded, although he didn't know it yet, as everyone save the Dawn drone had ruthenium cloaking.  He was powering up, getting ready to flee.  I shut that down quickly -- after so long struggling against multiple VPNs, it was an absolute pleasure to accomplish a straightforward vehicle hijack.  

Meanwhile, back at the dwarven residence,  a couple of un-masked Masques had received orders and were making their move, reaching under jackets and closing in on the flat.  Katrya and Varfana quickly got that under control - they were carrying explosives, as expected.  This gang seems to be overly fond of explosives; we'll have to watch out for that.  They were not carrying anything that proved an adequate defense against shocking blades and foxkin fists of fury.

At the sad little playground, we dropped our invisibility once we had the hardshell surrounded.  I popped open the door and Vamir told the driver to step out.  Which he did...but then he opened his hand, and the night light up.

He had been holding a deadman's switch of his own, and the explosion came either from a bomb he carried on him, or from close behind him in the van.  Either way, it killed him instantly.  Most of our crew escaped the brunt of the blast.

But not the Dawn drone.  Parker had to keep the bomb she was holding still, and couldn't employ full range of movement - and could not get the drone out of the way quickly enough.  It was disabled, to say the least, and that was a problem, because it was carrying a live bomb.

The second blast also did not kill anyone, but it certainly ensured that nothing salvageable remained of that drone.  

Parker's normal voice quavered across my BANlink.  "Did... Did I just die, Zeke?"

I made a mental note to have a long discussion with Parker about death later -- and to take some precautions against her actually dying.  For now, I simply reassured her that the loss of the drone did not mean that she died, and praised her performance as a frightened Lohrig.

Then, while the healers were patching everyone up, I scavenged what equipment I could from the wreckage, got the hardshell running, and we headed out.  

We needed rest, and a plan.  We can not afford to let this go on any further.  

..::Kai::..