writing n' shit

Wally groaned, collapsing back into his seat. ‘Dude. You’re acting way too chill for someone trying to defuse an underwater explosive!’

Kaldur’s warm hum of amusement sung across the link. ‘I am keeping things in perspective—either I will be successful, or it will no longer be my problem.’

Artemis snorted, laughing into her hand. ‘Good one, Kaldur.’

(Five jokes that only Artemis and Kaldur laughed at.

The world is just another name for despair

My height is just another diameter for the earth

But when I read about the Titanic, I think we can push the phrase further. Because sometimes, as you pass another ship in the night, you may hear a cry in the dark. A person in danger. A shout for help. Distress rockets and SOS signals wailing into the night. A stranger in crisis. 

And in those fleeting moments as your ship passes theirs, you get to make the choice- are you the Californian, the closest ship to the Titanic, which saw the distress rockets and saw the lights on the horizon and sat and did nothing; or are you the Carpathia, turning on a dime, pushing all steam to the engines, racing to help?

We can not say for sure what caused the Californian to not help the Titanic in that night of crisis. Whether is was apathy or incompetence or fear, we don’t know.

 But we know that every single soul who survived the Titanic survived because of the Carpathia. Because the crew and the passengers of that ship raced nearly 60 miles through ice fields above their maximum speed in the dead of night, readying life boats, readying triage, to pull them from the water. 

“I do not require that you cook for me,” Kaldur stated, nursing a glass of water as he stood by Will’s fridge. “I did not mean to be such a burden.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as he cracked an egg into the bowl. “Then don’t come knocking on my door at three in the morning.”

Kaldur flustered, his eyes going wide. “I apologize, I did not-“ Will held up a hand, cracking a smirk. In all the years he’d known him, he hadn’t changed a single bit.

“Relax. It was a joke. Will makes jokes now,” he said, trying to ease his friend out of the panic he’d stirred himself into. “Scrambled okay?”

“I do not need food. Really. I would do just fine with your company.”

“I’m already cooking. Scrambled or fried?”

“….Scrambled.”

No sooner had Will poured the beaten eggs in the sizzling pan did he hear a familiar squeak. Two minutes later, it was followed by small footsteps. He and Kaldur exchanged a look, both of them counting down the seconds until the little toddler appeared.

“Daddy?” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she padded into the kitchen.

“In here, Princess.” Will turned the flame to low and crouched down to his daughter’s level, kissing her head. “Did we wake you?”

Lian nodded sleepily before she looked up and beamed, all traces of being tired disappearing from her features. “Uncle Kal!” Her father forgotten, she dashed to his side and threw her arms up to be lifted. The atlantean acquiesced and picked her up, a rare smile coming to his face when she wrapped her small arms around his neck.