#prompt: countdowns

[serickswrites]

Advent Calendar

Warnings: kidnapping, restraints, drugging, manipulation, implied torture, cruel whumper

"Caretaker," Whumper's voice was smooth as butter as Caretaker answered the phone.

"What do you want?" Caretaker spat out. They wanted nothing to do with Whumper. Wanted nothing more than to kick the crap out of Whumper and never see them again.

"Now, is that anyway to talk to little old me?"

"Yes, you're a piece of shit."

"Hmmmm," Whumper said sounding disappointed, "then I guess you don't care very much about Whumpee."

Caretaker's heart stopped. Whumpee. "What are you going to do to Whumpee?"

Whumper chuckled. "Got your attention, eh? Well, if you can tell me exactly what I want to hear in the next two minutes, I'll leave Whumpee alone."

"And what is it exactly that you want to hear?" Anything. Caretaker would say anything to save Whumpee.

"Oh, I think you know, Caretaker. You now have a minute and thirty seconds."

"Just tell me what you want to know and I'll tell you!"

"Ugh, fine, I'll say it. Since you seem to have forgotten what I want. I want you to tell me exactly where the money is, Caretaker. The money that should be rightfully mine. One minute now."

"It's with the rightful heir," Caretaker said quickly. "Now, leave Whumpee alone." Caretaker didn't care that Whumper knew that information. The rightful heir was safe. The money was safe. They had to make sure Whumpee would be safe, too.

"Excellent, excellent. See, Whumpee, I told you Caretaker would tell me."

Caretaker's mouth went dry. "What?"

"Check your email," Whumper said as Caretaker's phone pinged. "Go ahead, I'll wait."

Caretaker's heart was in their throat as they stared down at the image in their email. Whumpee was slumped over in a chair, bound at the wrists and ankles. Their eyes were hazy and Caretaker could see a pinprick on their neck. "What have you done to them?"

"I gave them a little of this, a little of that. You know, just some things to try and convince them to talk. But they didn't. So I knew you would. And now I get to punish them for their insolence."

"Whumper, wait! Whumper!" Caretaker screamed into the dead line. They had to find Whumpee. Whumper had kidnapped Whumpee and was likely going to torture Whumpee to death unless Caretaker stopped them. They had to find Whumpee now.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @artisticdemon

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Novel Movements

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Eddie Munson | Word Count: 2684 | Rating: T | CW: Medical Emergency (Not Steddie), Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Gym AU, Modern AU, One-Sided Enemies to Lovers, Misconceived Notions, Platonic Stobin, Steve's Flirting, But Eddie Doesn't Know That, Oblivious Eddie Munson

"Eddie Munson."

His name is said with such sarcasm that Eddie turns his head to look.

Of course.

Just what he needed today.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie mimics in the same mocking tone. He doesn't know very many names in this place, but Steve Harrington has made sure Eddie knew his, even if it was totally against Eddie's will.

Now, Steve's standing there, grinning at him.

He's not going to put up with him. Not today. 

Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the gym. And there are lots of gym bros here to choose to loathe. He honestly barely knows him. But Steve Harrington is always prancing around in his little shorts, with his hair stretching towards the sky, like he's not preparing to teach a workout. Eddie isn't even sure what class he teaches. All Eddie knows is that he never seems to work up a sweat during them, as far as he's ever seen.

If he's not standing around taunting Eddie, he's leaning over the front desk, harassing Robin. She's a lesbian, Eddie is sure of it, and if Steve Harrington can't see that and know to leave her alone, he needs his eyes checked. He's always just a step too close to her, and about two steps too close to Eddie.

It's frustrating, infuriating, and Eddie hates him.

He might not sign a second contract with this place. He was asked, as a favor, to take over some classes short-term, and he's enjoyed the extra cash. But it clearly comes with a cost. 

He's gonna kill Gareth for assuring him this was a cool place to work. It's not cool. Well, it's cool. Except for Steve Harrington.

There were more than enough Steve Harringtons in his high school that he doesn't need to work alongside any more of them now.

Eddie looks away, and watches as his own kickboxing students filter in. When he was younger he needed an outlet for his teenage rage, Wayne signed him up for a kickboxing class at the local gym. At first, he hated the idea. Exercise? A sport? No fucking thanks. But he gave it a try. For Wayne. 

It was just him and some weird older dude that really preferred karate in that first class, but Eddie quickly learned to love it. The release. The pounding of his heart. How the stress would seemingly just melt away, one kick, one elbow, at a time. How the resistance, heavy and thick, would ground him. 

It was a good idea. But Wayne's ideas usually are, Eddie damn well knows that. 

And now, years later, he's the one teaching the classes to help others maybe find their love of it, too. Eddie's no sports guy. Not at all. Kickboxing is his main form of exercise. Sure, he'll use the rest of the gym every so often, since it's a perk of working here, but overall, this is his only thing. 

Nothing else has ever appealed to him in this same way. 

Steve saunters down the catwalk, the sun reflecting through the huge pane glass windows, illuminating him as he's bouncing with every step. The motherfucker always gives off main character energy, and that's true today as he glows while Eddie watches him go.

He'd much rather see him going, then coming, that's for fucking sure. He's too goddamn chipper.  

Eddie's already soaked, hair clinging to his neck, so he just as well run for a bit. It's not his favorite thing, not by a long shot, but it's necessary evil sometimes. 

The wall of treadmills is blissfully empty, and he picks one, and gets to work. Feet hitting, over and over, as he counts down the time he needs to spend on this thing. He doesn't enjoy it, but he'll do it. Occasionally.

Then he catches movement beside him.

Jesus H. Christ. 

The place is a ghost town and Steve Harrington still feels the need to set up camp right next to him. 

Eddie ignores him. Pretends he doesn't even realize he's got unwanted company, and pounds along the belt. Eddie can see him in the mirror though, unfortunately, and Steve smiles. He looks graceful while running, of course he does, especially compared to Eddie's heavy stride. 

When Eddie's cooldown begins, Eddie's grateful. He's ready to hit the showers and get the hell out of here.

Steve's still running, like it's easy as can be, even after Eddie's showered and dressed, bag slung over his shoulder. 

He's gotta get home. Tomorrow is his early class day. He's not a morning person, but he conceded to having at least one class a week before nine.

Eddie rolls in, coffee cup in hand. He hears the commotion, the frantic buzz of something is happening echoing through the open gym, bouncing down the catwalk, from room to room, like it's seeking help it just can't quite find.

"Okay, everybody, give me a second. Get a drink, stretch, I'll be back and we'll get started then," Eddie says, telling his class. They are all huddled in groups discussing what might be going on. 

He jogs down the catwalk, then peeks into every class on the other side of the split structure as he passes by, looking for the right one. Most of them are empty. When he turns the corner, he sees a crowd gathered at the end of the hall, and jogs that way. Someone's on the phone with 911, thankfully, because inside Steve Harrington is performing CPR on an older man, while everybody is just standing around watching. 

Eddie ushers them away from the door, and then starts gathering up the rest of the class Steve was teaching. A room filled with senior citizens, all in their matching sweatsuits and white New Balance shoes. Standing around, looking lost.

He's not sure where to move them. He could just send them home, but thinks they need time to unwind, process what they've witnessed, and maybe that's better done here than off somewhere else, possibly alone. He sees Gareth down the hall, and snaps his fingers, waving him over, getting Gareth to take all of the now shaken students to his classroom. No, they probably aren't gonna join in on his cardio drumming class, though Eddie knows he's offered one for seniors in the past.

Then Eddie runs back in, and it's just Steve Harrington, working his ass off on this poor guy.

Eddie counts for him, like he's been trained. 1, 2, 3, over and over and Steve follows the beat of Eddie's cadence until he looks worn out.

He's sweating now. Bangs clinging damp and limp to his forehead, and Eddie hates it. It looks unnatural.

"We'll switch, in 3, 2, 1," Eddie says, and Steve lifts his hands and Eddie takes over. 

"I got…I started, fast. I think, I think, maybe," Steve breathes out in short bursts, clearly exhausted. Out of breath and shaken.

Then, Steve counts for him, while Eddie listens for sirens.

It doesn't take long before he hears them, screaming up the road, and they switch off again as Eddie runs to the main stairs to guide them in. 

The professionals take over, and Eddie stands next to Steve, watching as they shock the guy back into a normal rhythm. Maybe they did it. Maybe Steve did it. Time is the most important thing, and Steve started right away. There's a chance.

Steve gave him a chance.

Hopefully, the guy will be okay.

Hopefully, Steve will be okay.

After they wheel him out, Steve looks around, "My class."

"They're fine. Gareth's got 'em. Probably turning them into the next Ringo's as we speak."

Steve cracks a grin, but it's small, and not all there.

"C'mon," Eddie says, "you can watch me teach my beginner class, if you want, and then we'll go get something to eat. You look like you need it."

After checking in with his class first, Steve agrees, and that's how Steve Harrington, enemy number one, ends up sitting on a fitness ball, watching Eddie prepare to teach his kickboxing for beginners class.

There's an empty bag, and Steve nods towards it when Eddie circles past, "Can I?"

Eddie grins, "You want to?"

Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, helping him get set up. 

He's a natural, Eddie thinks, as he helps him make small adjustments, and then just lets him follow along. 

Maybe he's never done any kickboxing before, but he's clearly athletic. He follows Eddie's instructions well, is very flexible, and definitely not afraid to get to work. For a beginner his kicks are high, strong and confident. He's comfortable behind the bag, as he seems to be getting all his frustrations from the day out on the bag. Good. That's what he's supposed to do in here.

When the hour is up, he's dripping sweat, exhausted.

Steve's wiping his brow with the tail of his shirt, letting Eddie get a glimpse of his hairy belly. Not the right time, not the right person, Eddie has to remind himself. 

"Still want that breakfast?" Eddie asks.

"Hell, yes. I'm starving. That was a workout."

Eddie laughs, and follows him down the stairs and towards the locker room. 

They both shower, and today Eddie's not annoyed that he's in the stall next to him, not like he was on the treadmill. 

It's funny how a moment or two can change your whole perspective that you just assumed was set in stone.

They pass the front desk, scanning their keycards to sign out, and Robin stands, looking at Steve, clearly concerned. She's fidgeting, worrying her hands. 

"Are you okay? Chrissy said–"

"I'm good," he says, interrupting, reassuring her, and Eddie watches them interact. She comes around the desk and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. 

He hugs her back, "Thanks, Rob. I needed that."

"You sure you're okay? Do you want me to find someone to cover–"

"Eddie's taking me to breakfast," Steve says, and Eddie does not miss the little widening her eyes do before she schools her face back to neutral. 

"Well, that's nice of you, Eddie," she says, and Eddie realizes he's been very, very wrong about whatever their dynamic is. She adores him, obviously. 

They hit the sidewalk, "So, Robin. Is she your…"

"Best friend. She's my best friend."

Eddie nods. That checks out. Steve was annoying her, but on purpose, mutually agreed upon nuisances, without a doubt.

They're best friends. He wasn't trying to pick her up against her will.

That's interesting.

Very interesting.

"Functional fitness," Steve says, sitting across from Eddie in the booth at the diner down the street from the gym, "it's for anybody, but I mainly teach seniors. It helps keep them mobile longer, and that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, you know?"

Eddie didn't know. Eddie had no idea what Steve was doing across the building, and had clearly assumed the worst, instead of the best of him.

He was wrong about Steve Harrington, he's pretty sure.

Steve keeps talking, "It helps them with everyday tasks, you know? Push, pull, carry. That kind of thing. So, I'll get younger participants that are rehabbing injuries, or that have chronic illnesses. But it mainly skews older, for sure. I never expected one of them to go down. I don't have them do novel movements over their hearts or anything, I swear."

Eddie nods. He's not sure what a novel movement is, not really.

"What a novel movement?" he asks.

"Well," Steve says, "it's like, something that you don't do everyday. A change. Shoveling snow. Shoveling snow is a novel movement, and that's why so many people unexpectedly die doing it."

Steve makes the motion for slinging a shovel full of snow over his shoulder, "So, like, I'm not making them do things like that."

"No shoveling snow in the gym, got it," Eddie says, teasing him a little, and Steve chuckles.

"You know what I mean," Steve says.

"I do," Eddie agrees. 

"I've never had that happen before," Steve then says quietly.

"And hopefully never again," Eddie comments. "It's not your fault. It's probably lucky for him he was with you. Best possible outcome if it had to happen."

Steve runs both of his hands down his face.

"Maybe."

Steve Harrington really isn't so bad, he supposes. He clearly cares a whole lot about what happened today.

The server puts down their plates, and they eat in silence, but it isn't uncomfortable.

Then Steve speaks again, "Thanks for helping, I was surprised to see you."

"Why?"

"You always seem so annoyed when I try to chat you up," Steve says.

Eddie can't really deny it. He has been annoyed. 

Wait.

Wait.

Was Steve trying to chat him up, chat him up? Like, flirting? Eddie wasn't reading flirting from him, that's for damn sure. 

Maybe he needs to pay better attention. That's been a common theme in his life, but usually about school, not attractive men that may or may not be interested in him.

"My bark is worse than my bite," Eddie settles on, and offers him a smile.

Steve laughs, his mood finally lifting, just a little, "Well, I hope not."

Holy shit. 

Eddie is such a goddamn idiot.

He's being flirted with. He's been being flirted with, for all the time he's known Steve Harrington.

Steve sits there for a minute, stirring his drink with his straw, knocking the ice around, "Do you think any of them will show up again?"

It takes Eddie a minute to parse his meaning, "Your class? Of course they will."

Steve rolls his shoulders in a non-convinced way.

"Steve. They know how old they are. You didn't do anything wrong."

Eddie doesn't know that. Not for sure. But he believes it to be true. He's just not sure how to prove it to him. Steve clearly cares too much to have done anything risky. 

Instead, Eddie asks, "When's your next class?" 

"Tomorrow."

"For the same people?"

"Some of them. Not everybody comes everyday."

"But some do?" Eddie asks.

"Some do," he confirms. "Usually, anyway. I have regulars. Vincent was a regular."

"Well," Eddie says, "I'll come. Then we'll know at least one person will be there. You took my class, so I should take yours. It's only fair."

Steve laughs, "It's not gonna be nearly as exciting as kickboxing."

Well, Steve's gonna be there. So, that sounds pretty exciting to Eddie.

The next day the class is as full as ever, Eddie suspects. And they're all kind to Steve, patting him on the back for saving their fellow classmate. He's stable in the ICU, and things are looking positive. Steve did good. He did real good.

The only discourse is a few of them trying to figure out how they're going to figure out the scheduling to take both Steve's functional fitness class and Gareth's cardio drumming. Eddie's pretty sure the kid is gonna have to add a senior class to his schedule again now that everyone got a preview of something they may have never tried on their own.

Eddie sidles up to their conversation, "I know Gareth. I'll make sure he schedules it so you can do both."

And just like that, he's won them over as well.

Steve gets started, and Eddie follows along with the routine Steve's leading. There are chairs for some of the less stable to hang onto, when needed, and it's just a thoughtful experience, honestly. Steve's kind, and funny, and they very clearly adore him.

He might not break a sweat, but he's really doing something special here. 

Eddie really hopes he'll get to tell him that later, over dinner, or drinks. Anything he wants, as long as Eddie can make up for lost time and for being a judgmental asshole for no good reason.

Steve grins, and Eddie smiles back as they get in place for the next rep in the set.  

Now, Eddie is certain that he wants to get outside of his comfort zone, outside of the box, when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Novel movements, indeed.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I didn't know where this was going, but I knew I wanted to use "Eddie Munson" the prompt as his name being said by Steve. So I got as far as, "Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the _."

Where? Where are they? I wondered if I could find a randomizer for jobs, and just...see if that would produce an idea. I did, right here, and spun the wheel and got "personal trainer" which isn't exactly where this led, but it got them in the gym, and the rest of the story fleshed itself out from there.

[tlmtwelve]

@pinahallowsevecloneparty Prompt: "Why are you poking me?" / "Looking for a mute button..."

[platypaws]

wouldnt it be fun if the pnf fandom had a prompt per day kinda event before june 5th to build up even more hype for the new season

[palimpsessed]

COC, day 25: Truce

I wipe my hands on my jeans. “Turn around, Snow.”

“Are you done?”

“No.” It comes out soft. “Turn around.”

He does. His hand drops from his hair. “Hell and horrors—you look like a butcher. Are you always this messy?”

“Only with you.”

@carryon-countdown

[911countdowntochristmas]

911 Countdown to Christmas

What is 911 countdown to Christmas?

A 9-1-1 focused event in which we countdown to Christmas with fanworks. This can be fics, edits, art, playlists, poems, or anything else you can think of. If you choose the 24-days option, you post one prompt a day. If you choose the 12-days option, you can choose between two dates to post a prompt. Fanworks can be focused on relationships, friendships, or a singular character.

Why this account?

I did a poll on @911buddieweek and though the option to host this on there won, I felt like it could get confusing to host it on there since this is not a Buddie-only event, which is why I made this separate account.

This way people who don't want to participate or follow Buddie Week can keep updated on this event, and updates for events will be separated

Do I have to post every day?

Nah, you can do whatever you want! If only 3 of these speak to you, you can only post those 3 days. It's entirely up to you!

Are there rules?

Tag accordingly - this event is open to all ages. Smut is allowed, but make sure it's tagged as such! Also tag trigger warnings.

No character bashing (though toxic parents don't count... bash away). Let's stay positive in this event. It's open for everyone in the 911 fandom...

...EXCEPT if you're gonna write pedophilia fics please stay away. Adult/minor fics will be removed.

The use of AI is NOT allowed.

Where can I post?

Anywhere you want! I will be making a collection on AO3 once December nears. You can post on here, on insta, twitter, any other place I can't think of at the moment.

Is this time limited?

It's okay if you miss a day, or post 12 fics on the same day. While the purpose is to count down, you can post whenever you want. Heck, if you're from the future and living in 2026, you can still post too! The ao3 collection will stay open.

Do I have to sign up?

Nope, you can just join. Though I'd love to know if you reply/reblog saying if you're participating!

I have a different question

You can send me a DM on here, on @911buddieweek or on my main @smilingbuckley. Asks for this account should be open (my main has them closed). If contact via Tumblr freaks you out, you can also DM me on Instagram (smilingbuckley).

[hyolks]

wanna start taking bets on how often i rewrite things bc im particular about how my handwriting looks ?

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 16

Old West AU / Marvel - Winteriron / Owl

Tony slumped in his seat, watching the world outside the train slide past, the only world he knew getting farther and farther away with every passing clack of the train’s wheels over the tracks.

The train lurched and Tony was all but thrown from his seat, barely catching himself on the vacant space opposite him as his ears filled with the screaming of the brakes as the train slammed to a halt. A few seats up, a man cursed as his valise fell from the storage rack onto his head.

Tony stood up. “I’ll see what’s happened,” he said, and no one contradicted him as he made his way carefully up the aisle and into the next car.

“--just run them over!” Obie was snarling at the conductor.

“With all due respect, Mr. Stane, it’s not the men and beasts on the track that are the problem. We’re only half a mile out from the Overlook Bridge. If we don’t stop, they'll wait ‘til we’re halfway across and blow the bridge, and the whole train will fall into the canyon.”

“What’s going on?” Tony interrupted, before Obie could start yelling again.

“Train’s being robbed,” the conductor said shortly. “Please, everyone return to your seats and don’t do anything rash. We’ll take up any losses with the sheriff at the next town; he’s supposed to have his men patrol along this stretch of the route to keep this sort of thing from happening.”

Obie looked like a stormcloud. “We’re supposed to just sit quietly and wait for them to steal our valuables, is that it?” he thundered. “Where’s your spine, you coward? Let me get my gun and--” He broke off, his eyes widening, and Tony turned to see that one of the robbers had come into the car.

He was tall and broad, his hat settled low to keep his eyes in shadow and a cloth wrapped around his head to obscure his face. He had a rifle slung across his back and a six-shooter in each hand, gleaming with deadly beauty. “Think you gentlemen oughtta listen to the conductor, here,” he drawled.

“Now see here,” Obie started, but the robber lifted one pistol, aiming straight at Obie’s forehead, and cocked the hammer.

“I ain’t gonna be so polite if you make me ask again.”

Obie sputtered, but even he wasn’t brash enough to try to argue with a bullet. “Come on, Tony,” he snapped. “You shouldn’t have left your seat in the first place, what the hell were you--”

“Tony?” the robber interrupted. He came closer, and Tony stumbled back a pace. The robber used the gun not pointed at Obie to prod at the bottom of Tony’s chin, forcing his head up. “Tony Stark?”

Tony’s heart was hammering, but as coolly as he could, he said, “Who’s asking?”

The robber chuckled, just a little. “They call us the Avengers,” he said, and quicker than Tony could process it, the man had spun Tony around, one arm around his neck to keep him in place and the other holding a gun to his back. “You’re worth more’n the entire baggage car,” he said, “so you’ll be comin’ with me.”

“No!” Tony struggled, but the masked man was strong, stronger than any man Tony’d ever met before. Using Tony as a shield, he backed out of the car, into the next one up the line. The dining car, and with a sinking sensation in his stomach, Tony saw it was deserted except for two other robbers at the far end of the car, conferring in low voices over some piece of paper.

They looked up as Tony and his captor came in.

“Look what I found,” Tony’s kidnapper said, twisting again to push Tony further into the car. “Not sure how we’re gonna split it, though.”

The man holding the paper snorted, then leaned through the door connecting this car to the next and made a sound like the screech of an owl. Footsteps sounded on the roof of the car, where they must have posted watchers.

The other one barked out a laugh. “Good job, Cap,” he said, and Tony knew that voice.

He stopped struggling, his eyes wide. “Bu--” He broke off. He didn’t dare say the name aloud, but his captor released him and he took several steps forward, needing to see...

The robber tipped his hat back a little, just long enough for Tony to see two eyes, gray as gunsteel. Eyes belonging to the man Tony had thought he’d been forced to leave behind. “You came for me?” he whispered.

“Damn straight,” Bucky said. “But make a good show of it as we drag you off to ransom you, huh? I’ll explain everything once the train’s gone on through.”

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Carry On Countdown, Day 1: Creature

(Quotes from "Wayward Son" and "Any Way the Wind Blows" by @rainbowrowell)

My first ever @carryon-countdown! I immediately saw this image in my mind when I read the prompt for day 1.

[becausebuckley]

where the lovelight gleams chapter 1: i'll be home for christmas | 5.5k

in which eddie and christopher arrive in winterberry glade.

yay holiday fic time!! this is written for @911countdowntochristmas day 5, soup!

Eddie leans back, tilts his head towards the sky, and closes his eyes. Was this a mistake? Was it stupid to think that they could do this, that they could have this, without any issues? Should he have known better? He just wanted a nice vacation for his son. That’s all. All he’s ever wanted was the best for Christopher. Suddenly, he hears something. The sound of a car, moving closer. Eddie opens his eyes and sees a bright red car coming towards them. It’s a pickup truck, one of those bulky ones with the big empty bed in the back. It’s gleaming red, clearly well-taken care of, and even has a green garland draped over the front. Eddie only has a second to wonder how safe that is before the car is pulling over just ahead of them.  A man gets out and walks towards Eddie, shrugging on a thick blue jacket as he moves. Eddie’s first thought is that he’s big. His second thought is that he’s beautiful. The man looks to be about Eddie’s age.  He’s all tall legs and broad shoulders, chest stretching out his jacket. His hair is short and curly and looks like it’s just begging for some snowflakes to get caught in it. He has a red mark on his eyebrow, probably a birthmark of some sort, kind blue eyes, and the nicest smile Eddie has ever seen. Yeah, he’s beautiful. He’s also talking, so maybe Eddie should stop thirsting and start listening.

read the full fic on ao3 here!

[twinkle-twinkle-up-above]

Carry On Countdown 2024 Day 23: Goats

"You can't go back, Simon, you can never go back…"

@carryon-countdown

[moonlight0934]

Countdown

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what happened, but one minute Damian was beside him, and the next he wasn’t. His presence was immediately missed since he was just telling Bruce about his latest experience with the GCPD, complaining about how one of them called him short, and he couldn’t even kill them. Bruce had been waiting for him to finish before chiming in, but he dropped off mid-sentence.

After glancing behind him, and realizing that no one was there, he immediately started frantically looking for his child. After searching the immediate area, and not getting any answer on comms, he reconnects to Oracle.

“Hey, B, what’s up?” she asks as someone moves around behind her, creating a lot of background noise.

Bruce pushes that thought out of his mind since she wouldn’t have someone that doesn’t know already in her apartment while she was working.

“Can you pull up Robin’s tracker?”

“Why? Did he run off by himself during a fight again?”

“No, we were about half way through our patrol route, and then he was just gone. We were actively talking, and I’m not getting anything from his comm.”

“Shit, that’s serious,” Barbara says, and he can hear her start typing right away.

Though some part of him does wish that he didn’t have to explain why for her to take it seriously, Damian does have a bad habit of trying to handle everything himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that he ran off without a word to chase down a bad guy, or deal with a witness without Bruce.

“It’s offline. Where did you say you were, and how long ago was it?” Barbara asks, her tone pressed and tight.

“What’s going on?” a voice asks, and it takes Bruce an embarrassingly long time to realize that it’s Tim who was speaking.

“We lost Robin.”

“Like someone took him, or he ran off?” Tim asks, also sounding concerned now.

“We’re thinking that someone took him unless he took running off to a whole new level.”

“I’ll get suited up now so I can help once we get some kind of lead. Unless you’re wanting to go canvas the area that he went missing in for clues,” Tim says, obviously talking to Bruce now.

It takes Bruce a second to get his thoughts in order, but he tells Tim to come to his location once he does. Tim meets him less than ten minutes later, but Barbara still has nothing by the time he does.

“He can’t have just disappeared,” Tim reasons.

“Someone grabbed him while he was right next to me. With that kind of talent, they could be anywhere.”

“True, but none of this makes sense. Even if they managed not to alert you, he’s a little ninja assassin baby, how did they get him with no resistance?” Tim asks, twirling his staff between his fingers as he speaks.

“I don’t know, but that makes them all the more dangerous.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Tim asks after a quiet minute.

“Definitely not since the only thing I can think of is that my child is gone, and Joker isn’t in Arkham right now.”

Tim hums.

“That’s definitely a possibility. Though if that is what happened, then he had to have hired someone to grab him. Joker isn’t the quiet type, and also, I think Robin scares him after he almost ripped the bones out of Joker’s arm last time. I was thinking that a third party might be involved.”

Bruce freezes, wondering how he could have not thought of that. It would also potentially explain the lack of resistance and noise from Damian if it was someone really talented in extractions, or kidnapping.

“You could be right, but I do think that we should start looking as fast as possible,” Barbara chimes in, though she still sounds anxious and on edge.

“Ok, well, we should keep looking for any clues as to who might have taken him. So, now that we’re back to where you were when he went missing, we can start looking around.”

It’s another fruitless half hour before Barbara interrupts them. “I got a message. It just says for Batman to go to the pier. That he had half an hour, or he was going to lose another child.”

Tim and Bruce go quiet before Bruce sighs.

“Ok, we’ll head there now,” he says, his voice already sounding defeated and scared.

“How did they get our comm channel?” Tim asks as they race towards the pier.

“I don’t know, but I honestly don’t care.” 

Damian wakes up feeling hot. It takes him a minute to realize that he should have been on patrol with Bruce. He looks around to find himself tied up on the floor of a dingy little room. Jason is also tied up to a chair on Damian’s right, unless someone else decided to start running around in a red helmet, and is built like a dump truck. Damian hisses as he realizes that his fingers are broken. After doing a body scan, he can tell that a few of his ribs are broken, and his knee is dislocated.

Damn, I can’t really move my right leg at all. Where are we? I was with Batman, wasn’t I?

His mask is still in place so there’s at least one solace. Jason also looks mostly unharmed. The room itself looks odd. There are chains in the corner, and even something to hook them into on the opposite side of the room as Jason. Who is waking up right now.

Damian manages to pull himself into a sitting position by the time Jason actually opens his eyes. He immediately growls, and tries to pull his arms free. Of course that does nothing other than make him more mad.

“Hood, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Damian says as he tries to get his hands free from the rope despite his burning fingers.

“D-Robin. Are you alright?”

“I’m just dandy,” Damian replies sarcastically, using one of the phrases that he’s heard his siblings use with each other before.

Then Joker opens the door on the other side of the room and strides in.

“Ah, Robin, Hood, I see that you’re both awake. Ah ah ah, you can’t remove those yet. We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

Joker walks over, and grabs Damian. Damian bites down on his lip to stop himself from cursing Joker out while he still has Jason immoble and stuck in a chair only a few feet away.

“Let’s see how you little birds do with a new challenge.”

Joker drags Damian to the corner, then locks the chains around his ankles before attaching them to the floor. Joker kicks him one last time before exiting the room. Damian coughs, feeling blood start to invade his airway. He coughs as much of it out as he can while Jason watches.

“Are you ok?” Jason asks, his voice wavering now.

“Hood, you need to calm down.”

A screen that Damian didn’t even notice lights up on the back wall. There’s a countdown that says thirty minutes on it. It immediately starts ticking. At the same time that the screen lights up, water starts to seep in through the bottom of the door, and through a few cracks in the walls. Damian looks around quickly before pulling himself back into a sitting position.

“Can you get yourself out?” Jason asks.

“No, I can’t. My fingers are broken, and I can’t get the chains off with that. What about you?”

“No, I can’t. I can’t move my fingers at all, but I can’t tell why. It feels like something is restricting them.” Jason’s voice is surprisingly steady as he talks even though he’s visibly shaking.

“I just have to-” Damian mutters as he tries to get the ropes off of his hands first.

The water is rising slowly, but steadily.

“You don’t think that countdown is till we drown in here, do you?” Jason asks, sounding slightly panicked now.

“No, he has no way of knowing exactly when we’re going to drown. However, I do think that is how long it has until the room fills up. That means we have between and a third and a half before I drown, and between half and three quarters of that until you drown.”

Jason shudders before continuing his attempts to get out of his restraints. Damian takes a deep breath, trying to stop his hands from shaking, because it is making life a lot harder. He only manages a little bit since it’s more pain and shock that he’s shaking from than anything else. Jason is starting to hyperventilate, and it takes every bit of patience that Damian has not to yell at him.

Instead he gently says, “Hood, you need to calm down. Breathe, because if you freak out right now, I’m not sure what we’re going to do. I understand how scary this is, but we have to get out of here. We can’t wait around for someone to save us. I need you to cooperate with me, ok?”

It takes a minute, but Jason nods.

“I can do that. I’m calm, and breathing is something everyone can do.”

“That’s right. Anyone can do it, now you just need to try, because you’re still hyperventilating.”

Jason nods, then puts his head back. Damian lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding when the ropes drop off of his wrists.

“Hood, any luck?”

“No, I still can’t move. How did you get your hands free?” Jason asks as he picks his head up and sees Damian’s swollen and purple fingers.

“Practice.”

Damian doesn’t make a sound as he starts probing around the chains with his burning fingers, though Jason groans and looks away. The clock just keeps ticking away as Damian tries to get himself free.

Eventually the water has reached Damian’s shoulders, and Jason finally speaks again, “Robin.”

“I know, I understand the situation, Hood. The water is also salt water, so that’s amazing,” Damian says bitterly. “There’s no way I’m going to get these off.”

“Don’t say that. I’m close to getting my restraints off, so I’ll be there in a minute, ok?”

Damian hums, though his body is starting to feel really heavy.

“Ok, I’m going to put my knee back in place, so don’t freak out if I make a noise.”

Once Jason gives affirmation, Damian sets his knee. He doesn’t manage anything other than a choked groan. Jason moves his newly freed hands to free his legs.

“Robin, I need you to try to stand. I can’t get over there for another few minutes, so I need you to stand up until I can get there.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

The water is already creeping high enough that Damian has to tilt his chin up so he doesn’t inhale water.

“Robin.”

“Fine.”

Damian gently puts weight on his good knee, then levers himself up. As soon as he does that, his vision immediately goes black. 

Jason is working on getting his legs free when he hears Damian hit the water.

“Damn it.”

He works faster, getting his legs free in thirty seconds. He crosses the room and has Damian out of the water in a few seconds. Damian is limp, so Jason leans him against his chest while he tries to unlock the chains around Damian’s legs. Damian is quiet and limp, and Jason’s heart is beating loud enough that he can hear the blood roaring in his ears.

Jason picks Damian up bridal style once he gets the chains off. He splashes through the water as Damian stays still and quiet in his arms. It takes a few tries for him to kick down the door, and something in front of them explodes as soon as he does. He goes flying backwards, then blacks out. He can hear mechanical laughing from a speaker when he wakes up. Panic immediately floods his chest, crawling up his throat. Green tints his vision for just a second, then a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up to see Bruce with Damian cradled in his arms.

“We have to get you two out of here.” He’s speaking softly, and it sends Jason back to his Robin days.

He always wants to cry, but Bruce’s hand on his shoulder is grounding. Seeing Damian limp in their Father’s arms is enough to spur him into action. His other shoulder and hand ache as he pulls himself up. His clothes are soaked, weighing him down as he follows Bruce out of the room. Bruce takes them to the Batmobile.

“I have it set to automatically take you home. Leslie and Alfred should be waiting for you there.”

“Wait, what’s happening? Did you get Joker?”

“Not yet. Just get home, and wait for me there.”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to argue before Bruce shuts the door. The car immediately shoots off on its own. Jason crawls into the back seat with Damian, putting two fingers against the inside of Damian’s wrist. He stays just like that until the doors open and Alfred comes into view. He’s kind of numb at that point, disassociating as Alfred takes Damian away. He stays there, trying to process everything that happened until Alfred comes back.

“I got Damian to Leslie, so I’m going to check you out now if that’s alright.”

Jason nods, then follows Alfred back to the medbay. Once Alfred finishes his checkup, he tells Jason that he just has a few bruises, and should get some rest.

“Though I understand that you won’t do that until Master Bruce and Tim get back.”

“Tim was there?!” Jason practically shrieks.

Alfred raises one eyebrow.

“Does that mean that Tim was fighting the Joker while Bruce was getting us!?!”

“Calm down. I’m not sure exactly what has transpired since I am not psychic, and I haven’t been updated. However, I’m sure that Master Tim is in the least danger that he can be.”

Jason forces himself to breathe, because he suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out.

“News on Damian?” he asks breathlessly after a minute.

“He’ll be alright. Leslie is setting his fingers and wrist, and we’re going to watch him closely since he did inhale some water earlier.”

“He’ll be alright. That’s good.”

Jason sits with his head in his knees for what feels like a very long time. Eventually Bruce comes back in, looking worn out with blood on his suit.

“Bruce, is everyone ok? Where’s Tim?” Jason asks, practically flying over to Bruce.

He can’t stop himself before he slams into Bruce’s chest. Bruce looks surprised, but wraps his arms around Jason before he can fall.

“Everyone is fine. Calm down. Joker is back in police custody.”

“Where is Tim?” Jason demands, still scared and shaking.

“Tim was the one that was helping the police get Joker back to maximum security. I had to come back to check on you and Damian. How is he?”

“Alfred said that he was going to alright. Why is there blood on you? Were there civilian casualties?”

“No, I got shot. It’s not bad though I will have to get Alfred to take it out.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jason backs up, taking his own weight again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s no problem. Let’s go check on Damian and I can get this taken care of.”

Damian is sitting up when they walk into the medbay. He’s grumbling about something, and Alfred is checking the cast on his right hand.

“Hey, kid, how ya feeling?” Jason asks, kneeling down by Damian’s bed.

“I’m fine, Todd. Where is Drake? Are you alright, Father?”

“Yes, I’m fine, and Tim is helping Gordon.”

Jason sits down on the edge of Damian’s bed. He looks over Damian, taking everything in. He has casts on both hands, and one of them goes up his arm. He looks a little pale too though otherwise he looks fine. He even manages to look angry while doped up and in pain. Jason smiles.

“I’m glad you’re ok.”

Damian nods.

“You too.”

It’s at least an hour after that when Tim walks in. Damian is asleep against Jason’s side by then while Jason is fighting sleep. Bruce already left to type of the report of what happened, and send it to Gordon.

“Hey, you good, Timmy?”

Tim nods, dropping into a chair.

“I just wanted to make sure that you guys were ok. I have a minor concussion, so I can’t sleep. Thought I’d see how you guys were doing.”

Jason nods, then puts his cheek against the top of Damian’s head. Tim smiles.

“Get some sleep Jason.”

Jason nods, then closes his eyes. He’s lulled to sleep by his brothers’ presence. 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

[tlmtwelve]

@pinahallowsevecloneparty Prompt: "I just want to forget you"

[nine-one-wanton]

Prompt: Countdown

Rated: g | Pairing: bucktommy | for @118dailydrabble

As a kid, Tommy had spent many days at his grandmother’s; and she’d taught him to sew. He’d hidden projects under his bed how other boys hid pornography.

He’d never told Evan, even when he’d begun sewing an advent calendar for Jee-Yun.

A festive patterned fabric strip with 24 glittering ribbons along its length to tie candies, so she could countdown to Christmas. At the top, he’d cross-stitched a snowman, and her name above it.

He’d hoped to watch her make her way through it, and was kicking himself for ruining that future when he clandestinely set the gift wrapped craft onto their doorstep.. And the door opened unexpectedly, and he found himself face to face with..

Evan.

[My series of these prompts on ao3]

[bucktommyweek]

we have five days to go until bucktommy weekend!

sorry your inspiration was late, i was working today but rest assured i was thinking of these two quite frequently throughout the day!

prompts, faq and rules, as well as the newly built ao3 collection are here.

-

this time next saturday hopefully we will be seeing creations from the below two prompts:

clean but can be dirty "I'll come for you, no matter what, if you need me, I'll be there."

dirty but can be clean The toy chest.