#no proof it does anything to prevent death
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An Odd Job
5 times Buck drops some random information about his time traveling and the odd jobs he worked + 1 time they realize it’s not that at all.
AKA a Navy Seal Buck AU where his years traveling were a cover for missions.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: guns, military, mentions of death and violence
~~~
1. Rappelling Down
The first time it happens is on a call, something the 118 isn’t new to. Buck is still on probation, but has already settled in quite a bit. He’s a friendly guy and having people around him makes him thrive, as does the work. Even if he’s a bit irresponsible now and then.
Right now, they’re answering a call about a kid who climbed out of the apartment building window when playing spy then got stuck on a ledge high up. They can’t reach it with the ladder, so they’re rappelling down from the roof.
As Buck is strapping himself into the harness and getting ready to go over, he grins: “Oh, I missed this.”
“What, the few times in training got you hooked?” Chimney grins, while Hen and Bobby shake their head slightly at their newest recruit.
“Nah, used to rappel down all the time before this,” Buck answers, fasting the last bits.
“What?” Hen asks, checking his lines, just to be sure.
“Oh, I traveled a lot. Did odd jobs. One of them was at a rappelling business. Let me tell you, real handy when training for this,” Buck says, sending her a big beaming smile, before getting on the edge of the roof and expertly jumping down.
The kid has his foot stick in a fence, which isn’t optimal for getting him out, but has luckily prevented him from falling. Buck first secures him in a harness of his own, attaching that to himself, as he radios for Chimney to come join him with a saw.
Once Chimney is down there, he hands the saw to Buck so he can check the injury. Despite being attached to the kid and working in Chimney’s area, Buck stays out of the way the entire time. It’s not often like that, even with seasoned firefighters. Working when dangling form a building is always harder than on the ground.
So, when they’re back up on the roof, Chimney claps Buck on the back and grins: “Nice work out there. That rappelling business must be pretty good.”
“Yeah, one of the best,” Buck returns, his grin slightly knowing in a way Chimney can’t place.
However, before he can ask about it, Bobby cuts in: “You did well, but don’t get overconfident. You are not playing spy out here, you just saw what can happen if you do.”
“Guess I’m not,” Buck nods. “Won’t let it happen, Cap.”
“Good, now lets pack up.”
2. Shrapnel Wounds
Eddie has been confused about Buck all day long. The guy fucking hates him for no reason since the second he arrived, and for what, because he gets along with his team? That’s a good thing. Even if it’s not all the team, apparently.
However, mostly Eddie has been curious about what is up with him while they actually work. This case with the shrapnel has made Buck quite a mystery to Eddie. Because he’s been having a one sided pissing contest all day with Eddie, but he clearly knows something about this sort of thing, but he’s not saying anything.
He first notices that Buck doesn’t want to see the wound. This is not that strange and he brushes it off, but a part of him supposed Buck was the kind of guy who would want to see it, maybe get a kick out of it. But he hadn’t, just got to work with a familiar disinterest, as if this was nothing new.
Then, it’s in the ambulance. Sure, he brings up the rebar as way to be annoying, but when Eddie uncovers the gold cap, Buck’s face gets worried before Eddie can explain the difference between the caps, as if he’d already known.
Buck also offers to go into that ambulance way too easily, strapping on the bullet proof vest as if he’s done it multiple times before. Eddie is pretty sure that is not common, even in LA.
But the final confusing piece of the puzzle is after they get the thing out and wheel their patient over to the hospital. He and Buck have found a camaraderie together and he’s about to let the whole thing go when the bomb in the ambulance explodes.
Bobby flinches immediately, while Eddie doesn’t react at all, used to it. Buck does an interesting mix of both. Eddie watches him not react, then flinch a little too exaggerated with a delay.
Unable to help himself, he asks: “This not your first bomb call?”
“What?”
“I mean, you kinda seemed to know what was happening today,” Eddie explains, gesturing to Buck.
“All the military explosives stuff?” Buck asks and Eddie nods. There’s a flicker of something, but Eddie doesn’t know him well enough to place it, before it’s wiped away as Buck grins and claps him on the back. “Nah, man, you’re the one that can know about all that stuff, I just followed you lead.”
“Seemed mighty comfortable with that explosive,” Eddie pushes, even though he knows he shouldn’t, because they are just getting along and having good team dynamic is so important.
Buck, fortunately doesn’t seem to care, throwing an arm around him as he says: “I traveled a lot, landmines are surprisingly common when you get to the wrong places by accident. First time up close though. What do you say about a drink to celebrate your first explosion with the 118.”
3. Molotov Cocktails
They are on duty, but not on a call when Buck makes another reference to his travels. Though, they have just returned from a call when he does.
He is joining them at the couches, right as Hen says: “I can’t believe those kids thought it was a good idea to try and see if molotov cocktails worked like they did in the movies.”
“And without a plan if the answer was yes too,” Chimney huffs, a little annoyed since he lost an eyebrow due to the incident.
“Not to mention that they made shitty molotov cocktails,” Buck joins in plopping down on the couch. “I mean, if you’re going to do it, at least do it right. Everyone knows benzine or oil is better for it than fricking vodka.”
He gets himself situated and takes a sip of coffee before looking at everyone, who is giving him judgmental and/or confused looks. “What?” he says.
“How do you know that, Buck?” Hen asks, raising a brow at him and titling her head in a very specific and scary way.
“Hey, I didn’t do that,” Buck defends himself.
“Okay, so do tell. How does our little bad boy know the best way to make a molotov cocktail, huh?” Eddie teases.
“I was a bartender for a bit in Peru. One of the older guys there was involved in some of the civil unrest, knew stuff, liked talking about it. Can’t blame me for listening when he was talking big explosions and fires,” Buck grins at them, a little sheepishly.
“You’re a firefighter,” Hen deadpans.
“I had a fascination?” Buck suggests, more than tries to justify himself.
“You sure are something, man,” Eddie laughs, tugging Buck towards him so he can ruffle his hair in a way he knows annoys the shit out of Buck.
“Oh fuck off,” Buck rolls his eyes as he attempts to fight Eddie off, though it’s a weak attempt. He likes the camaraderie they have, the family he’s built. Even if he’s not completely honest with them about everything.
4. The Gun
This situation is bad. Very bad. LAFD rarely has to deal with unsecured scenes and suspects still on the loose, especially when the suspect has a firearm. However, rarely doesn’t mean never and this is pretty bad.
There is a victim bleeding to death and stuck out there, but a gunman still on the lose. The 118 want to move in so they can save this woman’s life, but the LAPD isn’t letting them.
Of course they understand that they have to be safe, however, it hurts to see someone in need of aid and to be there with all their gear, yet be unable to do anything. It’s not in their nature. It’s against their nature in fact.
Bobby is arguing loudly with the police on the scene, until he gets his way. The shooter is apparently far enough away that they deem it safe to move in, albeit with escort. Thankful for that, the 118 get to work.
Sadly, not everything goes to plan, the gunman circles back and their escort partially leaves to be back up. Not moments later the gunman comes running around the corner, an assault rifle in hand and a whole lot of police on his trail.
What is left of their escort tightens rank as shots cease to be fired, since they’re now in the line of fire.
A brave idiot tackles the shooter from the side and the gun slips from the man’s hand as they scramble on the floor. Everyone is advised to stay back, but Buck is already running, snatching the gun up from the ground and disarming it, chucking the ammo as far away as he can before going in the other direction.
The police get the man in cuffs, but Athena is stalking towards him, snatching the gun out of his hand as she snaps: “What in the hell were you thinking? Or were you not thinking?”
“I just wanted to make sure he couldn’t grab it and injure someone else,” Buck says, looking back more defiantly than expected.
“And why on God’s green earth did you think you knew how to do that?” Athena interrogates further.
“I, uh,” Buck rubs the back of his head, his face becoming sheepish as he says: “I worked at a paintball range. Pretty accurate those things.”
“A paintball range?” Athena repeats, her tone implying that there will be a bigger lecture later and Buck won’t be able to escape from her.
5. Parachute Skills
“What an incredibly reckless and unbelievably stupid thing to do, firefighter Buckley,” Bobby berates Buck, who is still unbuckling himself from a parachute.
“It was the best call and you know it, Cap,” Buck argues back, not taking the admonishing when he knows he’s right. “If I hadn’t climbed into that plane, we never would have made it out with the patient alive.”
Behind them they hear a relieved Chimney exclaim: “Patient is stable, ready for transport. Let’s move.”
As if to say, see, point proven, Buck raises his brows at Bobby and opens his arms.
“You got onto an unsecured plane balancing on the edge of a cliff, against my direct orders, then proceeded to jump out of it with a patient, while you have no qualifications to do so,” Bobby reminds him.
“It was the fastest way to get him to medical help, since air evac wasn’t gonna be here on time. I knew what I was doing,” Buck says, obviously hurt that Bobby doesn’t trust him.
“I don’t think you did,” Bobby replies, a hint of desperation and disappointment coating his voice. “You do things without thinking them through, because you assume everything will work out fine, but one of these days, it won’t. You take unnecessary risks and you don’t follow orders.”
“I follow orders just fine, I’m just also capable of making risk assessments by myself,” Buck scowls. “He had a femoral artery bleeding, no spinal injuries. He needed to go to an ambulance and fast, we couldn’t get him out there on time. He had to go down. I found a way down.”
“By parachuting!?” Bobby shouts.
“Yes, by parachuting!”
“Did you ever stop to think how wrong that could go, Buck? For Pete’s sake you’re a firefighter, we see these accidents. You could’ve made the patient’s situation worse and injured yourself.”
“And did you ever stop to think that I knew what I was doing?” Buck yells back, chest heaving in frustration and anger. “You really think that I wasted my early twenties seeing the world without jumping out of a few planes? Do you think I would’ve put that patient’s life at risk like that? Is that really what you think of me?”
Bobby can see in his eyes how much he’s hurting and then realizes how he doesn’t want to have this screaming match. He takes a deep breath, then replies in calmer voice: “No matter how much you know, accidents can still happen and on paper, you don’t have the qualifications to do this. If something had gone wrong, you would’ve been on the hook for it. You still might be.”
Buck looks away, still frowning and his jaw set. He brushes past Bobby, nearly colliding with him as he bites: “Fine, next time I’ll let the patient die, if that’s what you want.”
+1. Sniper Dora
After the parachute incident, which luckily had been cleared up without major consequences for Buck’s job, things had settled within the 118. Buck now had the papers to make such a rescue within their parameters in the future and he and Bobby had worked it out best they could.
However, things are still a bit weird between them. Bobby knows there is something about the whole thing that he doesn’t know, but prodding makes Buck shut down. Meanwhile Buck knows the Captain can’t help it, but he still wishes the other would trust him more, not always immediately think him irresponsible or reckless.
Then the call comes in.
A chopper has hit a high rise and is stuck without a way to get in. It’s a military chopper too and they’re requested to coordinate with the commander on site about how best to deal with the cargo… whatever that cargo may be.
They arrive to the roof, so that they can start securing the chopper before attempting a rescue. There is a man that greets them, wearing combat gear, gun slung over his shoulder. He shakes Bobby’s hand, explaining that he was in the chopper that’s parked on the roof, before something was wrong with the other one and it went down.
“We’ll get it secured and try to get your men out safe and sound,” Bobby assures him.
“Thank you, Captain,” the man nods, before he calls out: “Oi, Dora, that you? Hope you still have that killer aim, I’m gonna a need a favor before you can secure that chopper.”
Everyone is now confused, however, before Bobby can ask for clarification, Buck replies, much to everyone’s surprise. He sighs: “I really hate that call sign, Dig. But I can still aim.”
He walks forward and shakes the man’s – Dig apparently – hand, before pulling him into a bro-hug. As Dig claps him on the back, he says: “Great, because we were transporting an informant in that chopper that I need tranqued, because this has turned into a hostage situation.”
Dig hands Buck some sort of gun that he takes without blinking as the 118 just stares at the duo in confusion. Buck raises an eyebrow at Dig and smirks: “What happened to informant?”
“Hey, I never said willing informant,” Dig holds his hands up in surrender.
“Of course,” Buck says, taking the safety of the gun and peering over the edge.
“Okay, can someone please tell me what’s happening,” Bobby interrupts.
“Yes, who allowed Buck to have a gun,” a concerned Hen adds.
“Buck?” Dig asks Buck.
“Better than Dora, right,” Buck grins back.
Dig turns to the others and says: “Dora, or Buck, here, worked with my team, before he worked with yours. This is need to know only, so let’s keep this part off the records. I’ll say Nugget took the shot.”
“Nugget, really?” Buck asks, nearly offended, looking back to the parked chopper.
One of the guys sitting on the side raises his hand and smiles: “Sup, Dora.”
“Sup, Nugget,” Buck returns, before refocusing on his task.
“And why will Buck take the shot when you have other personnel available?” Bobby demands.
“Cause my usual sniper is down there,” Dig nods down to the chopper.
“Sniper?” Eddie repeats, looking at Buck.
The others follow suit and Buck squirms under the attention. He blushes: “Let’s keep the questions until after we secured the chopper, okay. It can still go down unless we do something. We don’t have time for this.” To Dig he says: “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Tim.”
“Tim?” Buck repeats, surprised.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man, but it’s Tim,” Dig shrugs.
“Alright,” Buck shrugs, leaning over the edge and calling out: “Hey, Tim. I see you have a gun there. You can aim it at my face, but with your vantage point, there’s a higher chance you’ll hit the blades and the bullet will ricochet and maybe hit you, or you break the blades and the chopper goes down. You can surrender now and we’ll come rescue you, no harm, no foul.”
“No, you won’t take me again, I have the power now,” Tim yells back.
“Okay, your call,” Buck replies, getting ready to make the shot.
In the background he can hear Chimney asking: “If, uhm, Tim down there has a bad vantage point to make a shot, how do we know Buck’ll make it?”
“Of course he’ll make the shot,” Dig huffs out in amusement. “There’s no better shot than Dora. Never worked with a better sniper since him. Was sad to see him go.”
Buck blocks it all out, he takes a deep breath, holds it, aims and fires. It’s a fluid motion, one born out of a lot of practice. He keeps holding it, until the tranq makes contact with the target. When he has established he made the shot, he calls out: “Target hit, chopper cleared of hostiles.” He hands Dig the gun back and starts grabbing his usual gear as he says: “Let’s go secure this thing.”
This isn’t an easy or routine job, so most slap on their professionalism as they set to freeing the men trapped in the chopper. However, Buck feels the glances the entire time.
Still, in a way, it’s good to see old friend again. Even if they’re all still dickheads. They secure the chopper to the roof, allowing for the blades to be turned off, then rappel in. As Buck lands, Gus grins: “Hey, it really is you. I thought Dig was pulling our leg.”
“Couldn’t let you sit here, someone had to come save your ass,” Buck says, attaching Gus to his harness so they can be pulled up.
“It’s good to see you, Dora,” Gus says.
“Yeah, yeah, still hate that name,” Buck rolls his eyes, but the tone is fond.
“Oh come on, those ladies were right you know, you truly are adorable. Few years and you’re still baby faced.” Gus’s face is nearly splitting in two with that shit eating grin of his, pinching Buck’s cheek.
Buck hands him over to Chimney for a quick check up, saying: “He might seem like he has a head injury, he doesn’t. Gus over here is just naturally that stupid.”
“You love me,” Gus singsongs.
“I hate you,” Buck singsongs back, jumping back over the edge to get the next guy.
Soon everyone, including the tranqued informant, has been rescued and checked over. There are people on the way to get the chopper down properly, but the others will continue on. They have places to be and manage to fit themselves into the one chopper.
Though not before saying their goodbyes with Buck, making him promise to come hang out with them again. Buck smiles broadly at all of them, returning hugs and claps on the back as he returns to promise to stay in touch.
The second that chopper is off the roof, everyone is on Buck. Chimney slides up next to him first, saying: “So, why Dora?”
“Ugh,” Buck groans. “It’s almost as embarrassing as your Chimney story. Infiltrated the wrong house, bunch of nice ladies though. Helped them with their door and they kept calling me adorable, which…”
“Got shortened to Dora over time,” Eddie fills in, knowing how that works.
“Yup.”
“God, glad I remained Diaz throughout my service,” Eddie grimaces in sympathy, as Buck gives him a pained nod of thanks.
Bobby appears in front of Buck crossing his arms as he gives him this questioning look. “Care to explain exactly what Dig meant with you running with his team before running with ours.”
“I, uh- I was a Navy SEAL, before joining the 118,” Buck explains, rubbing the back of his head.
“I thought you said you dropped out of training to become a Navy Seal, because you couldn’t turn off your emotions, become a robot like they wanted you too,” Bobby says.
“That was only half a lie,” Buck defends himself, though he looks apologetic about it. “That is the reason I quit, I just didn’t quit training, but the force itself. I mean, being a SEAL is pretty good, but at some point, it- it just started to weigh on me.”
“Being a sniper can be rough,” Eddie says. “Some of my buddies from the army were snipers, they always had a look in their eyes.”
“Yeah,” Buck agrees, his own eyes becoming far away. “You- It’s not a firefight wherein everyone is shooting. You line up that shot and watch it through to the end. You know it’s you, you know what you did. I didn’t want take lives. I joined the army to serve, to keep people safe, but that’s not what they do. I couldn’t stay there.”
It’s a lot darker than what they’re used to from their youngest member and all look at him for a moment.
Hen steps forward first, sling an arm around Buck as she gently smiles: “Well, I’m glad you found a place here, with us. Doing what you want to do. What you were made to do.”
Buck smiles back at her, the life thankfully returning to his eyes. He tugs her hug closer and says: “I am also glad I found you guys.”
“So, why did you hide it?” Chimney asks as they make their way back down to the engine. “I mean, being a Navy SEAL is about as cool as it gets. Didn’t think you had it in you to keep that hidden.”
“Well, contrary to popular belief, I am not as irresponsible as I look, and like Dig said, it’s mostly need to know basis,” Buck shrugs.
“The parachute,” Bobby says knowingly.
“The parachute,” Buck agrees. “Told you I knew what I was doing.”
“I couldn’t have known,” Bobby points out rightfully and Buck gives a conceding nod.
“None of us could. Hell, Maddie doesn’t know, she told me about the postcards, those were mostly from US soil. How did you pull that off?” Chimney comments. “And why?”
Buck answers: “I asked the others to ask partners, spouses, parents, siblings to send them empty cards so I could send them to Maddie. Took pictures when I dressed up for undercover work. I lied to Maddie, because I didn’t wanna worry her. She already had enough going on with Doug and our parents. Easier to be careless and free, than in danger.”
“You have to tell her,” Chimney says.
“Yeah, you really do,” Hen agrees. “You know Chimney can’t keep a secret to save his life. She’ll have heard all about it by the time he’s through the door.”
“Can’t you keep this one?” Buck pleads as they drop of their gear.
“Nu-uh, no way,” Chimney says, getting into the engine. “I am gonna drive myself crazy if you make me do that.”
“But now she’s gonna worry all over me, even though I’m fine,” Buck whines, showing them he’s still their Buck.
“She’s an older sibling, it’s what they do,” Eddie says, patting him on the back as he passes.
“You all are the worst,” Buck pouts.
“For wanting you to not lie to your sister about what you’ve been up to for the last few years?” Bobby asks.
“Yeah!” Buck exclaims, throwing up his hands. “She is such a worrywart, you have no idea what our childhood was like. Her worrying is truly something of legends. Back me up here, Chim.”
“Oh no, I’m staying on her good side in case any of this ever comes back to her,” Chimney backs out as fast as he can.
“That is so unfair,” Buck whines some more.
“No, what is unfair is you trying to put me in the middle of the Buckley family drama, Dora,” Chimney argues back.
“We are so not calling me Dora,” Buck warns.
“Then tell your sister,” Eddie says, before driving away.
“Yes, or Dora will definitely stick. We’re persistent,” Hen backs him up.
“Why are you all ganging up on me?”
“Come on, you’re big tough, macho Navy SEAL guy, surely you can take us mere civilians,” Chimney taunts.
“Eddie is an army guy too,” Buck points out.
“Yeah, army not SEALs, you can be the one that knows about all that stuff now,” Eddie says.
“You still remember that?”
“Course, I thought there was something weird about you during that shrapnel call. I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed this, but your excuses got a little weird during that one,” Eddie shrugs.
“Oh my god,” Chimney says, just realizing something. “That rappelling business you worked at, did you mean the US government. You called the Navy SEALs a rappelling business.”
“I mean, they technically are when you think about it,” Buck defends himself. “They sure made me do a lot of rappelling and rappelling training.”
“I can’t believe you,” Hen shrieks, though it’s slightly delighted.
“And I assume the paintball range you worked for according to Athena is also the US government,” Bobby joined in.
“God, you’re excuses were pretty bad in hind sight.”
“Hey, you guys all believed me, so that is mostly on you.”
“Oh you did not just call us stupid!”
“Stop, Hen, your elbow hurts.”
“Ach, stop your whining.”
They continue to bicker as they drive away from the scene and back to the fire house. Buck knows it will take some getting used to, having this part of his life exposed. However, it’s nice to be able to share this with his family.
As much as he likes the people he knows from his time as Navy SEAL, it never felt fully right to bond with them over the things they’ve done. That team was always more like a fostering, the 118 is his forever home.
~~
A/N:
I'm sorry if the layout looks weird, im having issues with my landlord abt wifi, so i had to do this on my phone :D
#rr writing#9 1 1#911#911 abc#9-1-1#evan buckley#eddie diaz#hen wilson#chimney han#bobby nash#athena grant#navy seal!buck#9 1 1 fanfiction#118 firefam#firefam#tw: guns#tw: military
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Damn science and rich people are weird no wonder conspiracies breed traction the truth us just as bizarre as fiction
It sounds cryptic but it's actually based on plasma studies done on poor innocent mice its actually fascinating. But warning if you love animals it's not for you
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/young-blood-transfusions-are-on-the-menu-at-society-gala/
If only I could get a cure for depression at my local plasma bank
#plasma#anti aging#no proof it does anything to prevent death#science#weird rich people#i trust science more than the rich people we all die they need to get over it#i almost donated plasma but i wasn't healthy enough they were worried i get hurt#would have made 50 bucks
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by Jake Wallis Simons
Therefore, the number of women and children killed was likely grossly exaggerated. If that is the case – if, as Prof Wyner suggests, “the casualties are not overwhelmingly women and children, and the majority may be Hamas fighters” – where does that leave western outrage? Has the West fallen victim to a monstrous con?
The true ratio of civilian casualties to combatants is likely to be exceptionally low, “at most 1.4 to 1 and perhaps as low as 1 to 1”. This, Prof Wyner says, is a “successful effort to prevent unnecessary loss of life while fighting an implacable enemy that protects itself with civilians”.
By rights, if the central pillar of the anti-Israel edifice has been discredited, the whole structure should come tumbling down. But don’t hold your breath. The reason why Hamas’s dodgy data is so easily believed is confirmation bias. The drip-drip of Israelophobic propaganda over the years has created a powerful tendency to view the Jewish state, Britain’s democratic ally, as a colonialist aggressor and the Palestinians – even as they butcher children – as the “freedom fighters”. Regardless of the evidence, to many people this has become second nature.
It speaks of millennia of inherited anti-Semitism. A 2012 study by economists Nico Voigtländer and Hans-Joachim Voth found that Germans from towns where Jews were blamed for the Black Death and burnt alive in the 14th century were significantly more likely to vote for the Nazis 600 years later. In his 1945 essay, Orwell recalls a “young intellectual, communist or near-communist” remarking: “No, I do not like Jews. I’ve never made any secret of that. I can’t stick them. Mind you, I’m not anti-Semitic, of course.” Depressingly little has changed.
That is the advantage enjoyed by the jihadis of Gaza. They didn’t even need to keep their strategy a secret. Everyone knows they try to get civilians killed for propaganda gains, aiming to curtail Israeli operations with international outrage. Everyone knows that their censors keep dead terrorists away from the cameras, giving the world the impression that Israel is only attacking civilians (look up former AP reporter Matti Friedman’s seminal 2014 essay, “What the media gets wrong about Israel”, for a sense of how long such games have been played). A gang that murdered and mutilated babies may also, on occasion, be tempted to lie. So much should be obvious. But all this is smoothly eclipsed when a greater narrative is at work.
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I am gone. Because this is them in a nutshell, honestly. Tharn clinging to every connection he makes, unable to let go even when it puts him in danger and Phaya trying to save him no matter what it takes.
They are so in love and they need each other and they're meant for each other but, more than anything, they are meant for fate.
The palpable pain, the betrayal, the nightmare writ in life and death, Tharn's deepest fear... that he is not strong enough to love again, that he cannot hold onto love, that he cannot be loved or keep love written out in trying to save them both.
Because Phaya has seen Tharn sacrifice himself for their love and he cannot bear to see that again.
How to shatter two hearts at the same time.
(But also this is the cycle changed, shifted a little to the left, Tharn unable to place and keep himself between Phaya and danger.)
And Phaya lets go only for the truth to be revealed, the truth that Tharn has been trying to deny this whole time and has hurt Phaya with so many times.
Tharn, who had a fight with Phaya over trusting his friend, who told Phaya he wouldn't give up their friendship, who told Phaya to stop talking about this, who just lost Phaya without a chance to make up after that fight, Tharn facing down the man he told Phaya he trusted like a brother and realizing that everything he ever lost was from the same person that he hurt the lover he just lost to keep in his life.
I mean, it does help that the villain is stupid about his evil, honestly. Who would ever think that saying this to Tharn would do anything?
The worst part here is that Tharn hadn't chosen Phaya over him. He was still going to call him. He told Phaya to stop accusing Chalothorn of wrongdoing. He didn't make that choice in the strictest sense and that must be an even worse punishment, to know that you are being punished for a choice you didn't even make because you tried to love them both.
This is the selfish love that pulls someone off a cliff with them to make sure that they don't live without them.
And hasn't this been Tharn's fear the whole time? Hasn't this always been what kept them apart? The knowledge that Phaya would die no matter what he did? Isn't this the exact fear that held love at bay as long as he did?
Tharn has always held love at bay out of fear of lose and this is proof that the fear of loss doesn't prevent it but only delays the part that could have been enjoyed.
#the sign the series#phaya x tharn#idol factory#the sign series#the sign bl#phayatharn#tharnphaya#nagaruda#thai drama#thai series#bl series#thai bl#thaibl#asianlgbtqdramas#asian lgbtq dramas#bl drama#thai bl drama#thai bl series
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sae & rin itoshi with a neglected reader part 2 / part 1 !
✧ ⁺ ➥ heavy themes, gn!reader dies, delusions, bad writing, death is accidental, not proof read
"a weird one - unlike any of the brothers"
"i agree, they seem desperate"
"must've been hard to be overshadowed"
"hush !! if you say it that loud they might h-"
SLAM
it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red. it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red.
your parents were disappointed. they gave you everything you had and you had the audacity to harm someone over some small words? maybe you are the black sheep of the family.
"You need to learn how to control your anger and ..."
the tears prevented you from hearing properly, words igniting a deep fire in your heart. you wanted to run away, so fast, away but something was holding you back. your neck felt like it was pinched by thorns - your eyes were hurting.
"we're off."
your parents stood up and walked to the door. was this abandonment? why was this scene so familiar before? it was the same hair color, walking together out of that damn door and leaving you behind - for a moment you manage to raise up your hand and tried to call out to them.
"sae....rin"
where are they?
life was seemingly getting better, you wore the same clothes everyday, looked at the same things everyday, ate the same things everyday.
walking along the grassy fields, you don't know where you were, your legs hurt and you were dazed, the fire in your heart growing more larger by the second. it was a hot day.
water. you needed water. where's water? those words seemingly registered in your brain and your exhausted legs took you to a place where it felt oh so similar.
oh. it was a public pool, how nice - exactly where water was. the sounds of whirring were surrounding you. in the middle of the pool, was sae and rin in their floaties.
wait. sae and rin ? really ? they looked at you with warming eyes and waved their hands at you - beckoning you to come over. you jumped into the pool. so this is where they were. you don't even question it, you were happily playing the water with your brothers - when has life ever been this relaxing? for some reason, it felt truly good to be in the water this time - that fire in your heart has been such a bother, the water in the pool dimmed it immediately.
sae never thought he was a bad brother, he just thought he had too little time. he saw your texts, saw your glances, saw you liking his every post on social ( wait he knows your user ? ) but tough luck - he doesn't know how to respond to all of this. he was devastated when the awkward relationship with rin started, he just never thought caring for your feelings.
sae doesn't know anything but football. he wants to tell you he cares and that you will always be the very best sibling he could ever have, even up until now he collects and favourites every image of the two of you together, some with rin too maybe.
to properly explain his love for you, is like this : he loves you, he really does, and he wishes he could have more time for you.
rin is so not aware of his actions - he thought that sae was being a good brother to you so he automatically assumes you have an awkward assumption about him too.
rin thinks, that sae is doing the part of brother and sister with you, without needing him. and it hurts him, he wouldn't admit it though. it hurts to have sae throw their dreams out the window and now he wants to hog all your attention too.
he thinks he's doing the most, sae has your time and he will never be able to fit in the picture. after all - only the best footplay player can properly protect such an innocent person.
it was when sae and rin walked to the beach - not expecting to see each other. oh well, they could just do a mean little bump, a hi and walk along.
when their shoulders were about to meet each other, sae suddendly stopped walking which makes rin glance over and sae tugs his arm - tightly.
what?
"there's somebody jumping off the bridge." sae said, a bit shakily. rin turns his head back.
"is that-" rin stops. and the both of them dashed. sae called the ambulance and rin went over to the edge of the beach, trying to figure out what he just saw. he was so certain it was you, but why would it to be you?
you had no reason too, right?
"..."
your body was gently carried out of the dark sea, not very hard to find you considering all you did was plunge down into the water. rin's body was numb, he couldn't control his limbs, he fell down. sae tried to dash over to your cold body but the authorities stopped him and told him to back away.
never has he ever felt so desperate, such want for something. but.. don't you look a little weird? your clothes were tattered, rashes and bruises were placed all over your body, it was like you were abandoned on the streets.
"i thought you were looking after them" rin stated - not questioning, just a statement.
"isn't it the other way around?" sae replied back, wanting to push the blame onto rin. there was no way this had happened. he refused to admit that his lack of attention to you caused this. it had to be someone, rin maybe.
"there's no point in being the best at something, if you cannot bested your feelings" rin spat out, pushing the blame back. sae is the oldest, right? he should have taken care of you.
both of them stared at each other's gazes
you were playing water with them, with cool floaties
the blame wasn't pushed anymore, it was divided within their hearts
you went to get a hot chocolate with marshmellows, rin and sae having energy drinks
the blame was so heavy they felt the sting, feeling the coldness of your body on their faces
you went home with sae and rin, hand in hand
sae and rin never recovered. the nights were as cold as a dead body. sometimes sae cried and cried, rin suddenly sharing a room with his brother again, cried too - never stopped until the morning where the sun rises and dries off the water. was this also how you felt? texts were answered years later but no responses.
"i thought you were looking after them."
"i thought i did enough."
"what if-"
"there are no what ifs anymore."
silence followed. then sniffles and tears.
your room collected dust overtime, the curtains covering up your window perfectly - to block off any nosy people. sae sometimes goes inside your room, sits on the floor. rin would silently knock on the door, hoping someone would open it. sometimes, rin would find sae sitting on the floor and joins him too - as they dream of another day
a/n : for further explanation - reader was abandoned by their parents and they left reader alone, thus why eat drink and wear the same thing. they were in a state of delusion and their legs instinctively took them to the sea where they often gazed with sae and rin. even at their last moments they really loved sae and rin so ya & i found a nice discord username finally omg im happy w this one
#sae itoshi#rin itoshi#blue lock fanfiction#blue lock angst#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x y/n#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi x y/n
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[for the @calaisreno May Prompts for Crown & Country. I am back?]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) 18: blanket (19) (20)
The baby monitor startles to life and kicks John awake -- awake, but only just enough to reflexively and somewhat violently shove off the heavy weight on top of him. The weight makes a grumpy sound and attempts to sling arm and leg back round, and John's brain catches up with itself.
His head thunks back onto the pillow. 'Sherlock.'
'Hmmmph.'
'Rosie.'
'Yes, fine, go.' But he doesn't actually move.
John wonders for a moment if he's gone round the twist officially, to be sharing a bed with a sea urchin.
But then the creature snuffles into his neck, and John extricates himself with a sleepy grin.
Two mornings later, after falling asleep alone while Sherlock did fuck-knows-what in the lounge for hours, John wakes up with a thump and finds himself on the floor next to the bed. 'What the--'
He's fairly certain he hasn't lost his proprioceptive capabilities during the night, so he glares when Sherlock's head appears over the side of the bed.
'Oh, dear,' Sherlock says distantly. 'I was wondering if that would happen.'
'If what would happen?' John grumbles as he stands and pushes his way back under the duvet.
Sherlock remains on the other side of the mattress, though, brow furrowed. 'If two people with our… histories could share a bed with any sort of regularity.'
John chews on this for a moment, thinking of his own behaviour a few mornings prior. 'D'you mean, should two people with nasty PTSD from recent near-death events share a bed?' he finally replies, settling on his back with a loose arm in obvious, but unforceful, invitation.
Sherlock sniffs, hesitates for one more moment, then accepts. 'Yes, obviously,' he says into John's shoulder once he's settled himself.
'Well,' John says, hand running slowly over Sherlock's arm, 'let's do worst case scenario.'
It's something they do when Sherlock is caught in what John calls a "wonk spiral," facts and deductions swirling so fast and down such sparkling pathways that he's in danger of losing the plot, in more than one sense.
'Obvious,' Sherlock says.
'Doesn't matter,' John replies, same as he always does. 'What is it?'
'That we end up, quite literally, hurting each other.'
'And how can we prevent that?'
'We can't,' Sherlock says, exasperation plain in his voice.
'Sure we can,' John replies easily. 'We still have some of those corner-protectors for the furniture, yeah?'
Sherlock pulls back. 'You're suggesting we toddler-proof this room, but not for the toddler.'
'Easy.'
'Hmm.'
John pulls him back down. 'It's fine, Sherlock. It'll get better.' He knows this from past experience. 'We just… try not to trigger anything while we're awake, and we'll deal with it if it happens otherwise.'
'You sound very confident,' Sherlock murmurs, voice growing heavy with sleep.
'I've had more therapy than you,' he replies wryly.
He feels Sherlock start to tangle their legs together, then pause, then slowly move so they're connected but not holding each other down.
'See?' he murmurs into Sherlock's hairline. 'We're fairly clever. We'll be fine.'
Sherlock makes a noise somewhere between a harrumph and a sniff. 'More than fairly, I'd say.'
'Obviously,' John says lightly, grip on Sherlock's upper arm tightening momentarily. 'Now, sleep.'
And Sherlock, miraculously, does.
[ <3 ]
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Can anyone help me find this twisted wonderland X reader fanfiction on Tumblr?
No I don’t really remember who wrote it obviously and I don’t remember the title but I remember a little bit of the summary and I don’t know whether or not if it’s as accurate, but if anybody has any details about it, please let me know by leaving a link or the username of the blog.
Now also fair warning, this was a twisted wonderland X reader, which is the type of fanfiction that does involve death of the reader, but still living after but with more trauma and dark themes so if that’s not something you’re comfortable with then please don’t interact with this post unless you know Where to find it or who wrote it:
So, from what I remember, the fanfic was about how the reader who is the prefect of the NRC somehow had this ability that prevents them from dying, but can still feel the pain before then.
For example, when the reader first met ace, Grim shot of fireball him, which was supposed to hit the statue, right? Well, from what I remember, I think the fire ball hit the reader instead, which they died being set on fire but even though they were resurrected, ace and grim ended up remembering it since they saw with their two eyes but we’re confused why nobody else believed them about what happened.
It’s a very confusing concept for me, basically the readers ability has something to do with how only people that were there in the scene can see that they indeed die but if anyone else were not there during the scene then they either wouldn’t believe that they did die or they wouldn’t see them getting injured at all therefore, no proof or evidence of anything regarding a death.
Now another example I can remember since this was a long time ago since I’ve read it, is that the most common deaths that the reader experiences is with every overblot in which once that happens, then everybody starts getting more aware that not only are their closer friends trying to protect the perfect from getting hurt, but also trying not to lose their mind because they get traumatized every time it happens.
If anybody finds it again, please let me know and thank you. 
#disney twst#twst x reader#twst angst#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x mc#twisted wonderland x yuu#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst yuu#twst overblot#twst dorm leaders
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Levi’s Expression when he kills Zeke and the misinterpretation surrounding it:
I constantly see people interpret Levi’s expression when he finally kills Zeke as one of regret, or remorse, or conflict, like he doesn’t know what he should be feeling after wanting to, supposedly, viciously rip him apart. But I think this interpretation is all wrong. I think it’s wrong because it supposes that Levi wanted to kill Zeke out of a sense of revenge, and he didn’t. He never, ever wanted to kill Zeke for revenge.
People go on and on about Levi’s supposed desire to torture Zeke and make him suffer, as if this is proof of Levi’s vengeful motivation, completely ignoring how that’s always been something Levi does, threatening extreme violence and pain without ever, actually meaning it. He says similar things to multiple people throughout the series, including Annie, including Pastor Nick, hell, including Erwin and Historia and various others. Levi talks rough, and he uses threats to try and extort certain, desired reactions. But Levi isn’t sadistic. He takes no pleasure in hurting others. His threats of violence are almost always exaggerated, rarely followed through on, and almost always simply said in the heat of emotion. In other words, he hardly ever actually means what he says. That’s his famously poor ability to express himself showing. Some might cite Levi cutting Zeke’s legs off over and over as some sort of proof of his desire to make Zeke suffer, and that in turn proving some sort of motivating factor behind his desire to kill Zeke, this wish to make him “pay” for what he’s done. Again, this is wrong. Yes, in that moment, when Levi is being perhaps overly violent with Zeke, it’s a sense of anger which is driving Levi’s actions. But again, this needs to be taken in context.
Zeke had just forced Levi into killing thirty of his comrades in order to survive himself, and prevent Zeke’s own escape. Zeke did to Levi what is possibly the worst and cruelest thing one could do to him, forcing him to kill his fellow soldiers, when Levi’s entire identity is wrapped up in his need to protect and save the lives of his comrades, and to prevent them from dying meaningless deaths. What could be a more meaningless way to die than that? To be killed because you’ve been turned, against your will, into man eating monsters? So Levi was, more than understandably, very pissed at Zeke. He was acting out of a place of extreme hurt and probably guilt in that moment. But this one, single instant of Levi torturing Zeke isn’t at all indicative of or representative of Levi’s core reason for wanting to kill Zeke. It was a singular and extreme incident which spurred Levi into anger here, not his general, overall attitude toward Zeke. Levi had up until that point kept himself under incredible control, not laying a single finger on Zeke. He only did so after Zeke inflicted immeasurable emotional and mental harm on Levi. So, again, this incident isn’t at all representative of the reasons behind Levi’s desire to kill Zeke, or who Levi is as a person.
He didn’t want to kill Zeke out of a need for revenge, and it drives me up a wall that people don’t get this. Levi wanted to kill Zeke, quite literally, to give meaning to the deaths of his comrades that died specifically to give him the chance to kill him. He vowed to Erwin that he would kill Zeke, in exchange for Erwin’s death, and the death of the hundred other SC recruits. With Zeke, until Levi could kill him, then, it means Erwin and the others will have died for nothing. And anyone who understands ANYTHING about Levi’s character should know what a horrifying prospect that is to him. Levi even says to Zeke, in the forest, that he has no idea how many of their own they’ve had to kill, and that was Zeke’s mistake in thinking Levi wouldn’t defend himself. All those soldiers will have been turned into titans, and their lives essentially ended, for nothing, if Levi let Zeke get away in that moment. It’s a constant weight on Levi’s shoulders, the deaths of all his comrades, and the need to give their death’s meaning and purpose. He needs to make sure they don’t die for nothing. In general, this means realizing their dream of a world free of titans and free of the walls. Realizing a world in which humanity can live freely and without fear. With the soldiers in Shinganshina, again specifically, it means delivering Zeke’s death.
So, getting back to my initial point about Levi’s expression when he kills Zeke, at last. The key phrase here is at last. His expression is one of almost pained shock. Okay. His brows are knitted, his eyes are almost stunned, like he’s in disbelief. People who are Zeke apologists want to interpret this as Levi feeling some kind of remorse or like he’s coming to some sort of realization about his hatred for Zeke, like he never should have hated him or wanted to kill him to begin with, because Zeke was just a poor, misunderstood baby. This interpretation is wrong, imo, because it completely ignores all the context of what was behind Levi’s drive to kill Zeke in the first place, and especially the moments leading up to him finally executing Erwin’s final order.
Levi’s expression isn’t one of conflict, or remorse. It’s one of disbelief. Remember this. Now let’s recall that in the moments before he finally kills Zeke, Levi is thinking about how he’s not going to be able to do it. He realizes his physical condition isn’t going to allow him to execute Erwin’s final order, that he’s in no fighting shape and that his chances of actually completing the task at that point are next to none. He’s obviously deeply regretful about this. It pains him immensely. But he’s also accepting of it. Levi is resigning himself in this moment to not being able to fulfill his vow, to not being able to give the deaths of the soldiers that died that day in Shinganshina meaning.
And then Zeke pops up out of nowhere, waving Levi down and opening himself up to an easy execution shot. Levi says “You’ve got to be kidding me.” when he sees Zeke. Again, that’s an expression of disbelief. He can’t believe that Zeke is just there, waiting to be killed. After all the struggle and multiple failures on Levi’s part to fulfill this one, final order from Erwin, and after resigning himself to what seemed the obvious fact that he wouldn’t be able to, suddenly he’s being presented with the chance to do it. Just like that. And so, of course, Levi takes the shot, and he kills Zeke, and at last, at last, he fulfills the vow he made for all the soldiers that gave their lives that day.
This isn’t Levi coming to some sort of epiphany about Zeke actually being a poor victim or not such a bad guy and feeling regret over killing him because of that. Levi had no way of even knowing the content of Zeke’s conversation with Armin, or why he was suddenly presenting himself to be killed. It wouldn’t have mattered to Levi, either way, because he didn’t want to kill Zeke out of hatred or a desire for revenge. How anyone could think, then, that Levi’s expression has anything to do with regret, or disappointment or remorse, is beyond me.
It’s RELIEF. The expression we see on Levi’s face is one of relief. Levi is relieved, because he finally, finally can unburden himself of his vow when he’d been convinced he wouldn’t be able to fulfill it, and give his fallen comrades peace through the vows fulfillment. He can finally say to them that their deaths had meaning, and it won’t be a lie.
It was the weight of four years of guilt and obligation finally being lifted off his shoulders. That’s what Levi’s expression means.
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Canon-adjacent (implied no respawns, or at least heavily impaired respawns, but otherwise canon-ish setting) platonic husbands philza and missa with philza getting himself into a good deal of bother.
TW: needles, blood, major character injury, implied temporary major character death, panic attacks
The mob was new. Of all the things that could do such harm to Philza... there's a lot of them, if he's insufficiently careful, but this one was new. New, and unpredictable, and now very dead.
Very dead, but having left a giant gash from Philza's ribs on one side, to his opposing hip. It's bleeding - heavily - but nothing a potion can't fix.
Philza puts pressure on the wound with one hand, and searches his bag with the other. He grabs a couple of potions - it's a nasty looking wound, and he's already feeling weak - drinking them or pouring them on it as the bottles dictate.
He gives them a second, then another, and the wound doesn't close.
Before he's even had the chance to think /shit/, or /poison/, or /what the fuck was on that mob's stupid scythe/, he has both hands on the injury. His first hand - the hand with his communicator on - is looking pretty gorey already. He puts pressure, realises it's barely helping, then slips his hands around.
He grabs the edges of his skin, pinches them together, and he thinks /okay, fuck, what do I do now?/
For once, Philza does not have an answer. He's a good distance from spawn, his communicator is soaked in blood to the point he isn't sure it'll work and he's very sure he can't see the screen, and if he moves he'll bleed faster. There's also the niggling knowledge in the back of his mind that his thinking is impaired, that he's poisoned and it's likely to have more effects than just preventing his wound closing, that right now if he acts on anything he comes up with then he'll do something extremely dumb.
There's no winning, not when he's having thoughts like that.
Staying put is a shit plan, it's a completely shit plan, and he's pretty sure all versions of him would agree. No matter how he holds the wound he's still bleeding, blood bubbling out between his fingers. If he stays here, in a random glade, a couple of hundred blocks north of the closest build, he's going to die.
If he gets up, if he tries to walk those few hundred blocks... With where the wound is, every single step is going to shift it. He won't be able to pinch the wound closed as he is now, and with every step any healing that's miraculously happened will be undone. He might even tear the damn thing more. He's a couple of hundred blocks north of the Hide and Seek Arena, and nobody's even going to be there at this time of day; if he tries to walk, he's going to die.
What else? What else? He tries to bash his communicator to life, just in case. He keeps the HOLD switch on when he doesn't need it, usually. With his ring finger he manages to reach said switch, and try to flick it. The blood has gotten into the mechanism, disabling it. And with HOLD on... Even if the other buttons escaped the worst, they'll be disabled to. If he gets out of this, he's begging Tubbo or Aypierre or Pac or /someone/ to redesign the damn things, make them blood proof. He's not going to get out of this, though.
He's going to die, and it's going to fucking suck.
Those are, as far as he can tell, his options. None of them are survivable, but at least if he's walking he's /trying/ to live. It'll kill him faster than waiting for help, sure, but Philza's never been much good at standing still.
He pushes up from the tree, and gets eight steps before his knees buckle beneath him.
His hands fly from the wound to catch himself, then back to it to close it back up.
Philza might not be thinking straight, and he might not be good at sitting still, but he's nothing if not stubborn. He grits his teeth, and pinches the wound closed, and drags himself to his feet.
He makes it ten steps, then fifteen, then a whole thirty before he can only make it four. With every attempt his vision grows a little darker, his heart a little faster, his teeth set a little harder into their grimace.
He still gets back up, and gets back up, and gets back up until -
Until he can't any more.
In a hazy blur Philza tries his comms again - still not working - before letting go with one hand. He bleeds even faster without it, yes, but like this? He's too exposed, too exposed, and he can hear the wolves coming. Wolves who might be fine, but might also be looking for an easy meal.
Even dying his instincts kick in; Philza drags himself into a more defensible position, and clamps his fingers around the wound once more.
His body already sprawled on the floor, it's impossible to fall further when his eyes slip shut. Vaguely, vaguely, he's aware of his fingers falling limp, away from the wound and /ah/ he thinks /well, we had a good run, didn't we universe?/.
The universe doesn't answer, or if it does Philza's too far gone to hear it. Maybe the acceptance should scare him, but as he lays beneath a tree, it feels warm, it feels gentle - it feels like coming home.
There's something on the tip of his tongue, some memory just out of reach, some deep-set knowledge he really must know.
He doesn't chase it, he simply leans into the warmth and tries to let go.
"Phil!"
... Missa?
He might be too weak to hear the universe, but not the terrified scream of his husband.
It drives Philza, that flicker of a scream. He manages to get one arm under himself, push up, and-
And he doesn't even get to see the terrified man sprinting towards him, as his vision stays black and his body collapses back to the floor.
---
Philza doesn't expect to wake, not to silence and certainly not to soft Spanish sung by a hoarse voice. Whatever pillows his head is oddly shaped but warm, though everywhere else is freezing despite the weight of blankets. An arm is draped over him, and fingers brush through his hair.
He's also in a fucktonne of pain.
The singing hitches like a sob and - yeah no, that's not an angel, Philza's somehow fucking alive.
He'll take it, but it fucking sucks.
Memories are difficult, fragmented. He's...
He's supposed to be holding shut the wound in his side and /fuck/!
Limbs like lead, Philza tries to move, tries to pinch his bleeding flesh shut once again. It's hard, it should be impossible, but he's Philza Fucking Minecraft and he refuses to die!
He refuses, but one of those arms shifts, tries to stop him. Someone kisses the top of his head, shifts to hold his hands, whispers "you're alright, you're okay" in a gentle tone.
The singer, the singer whose name sits beneath his tongue and Philza can't quite grasp it, but he knows they are /wonderful/, /amazing/, his entire fucking /world/.
Well, maybe not all of it, but a massive fuck-off chunk of it at least.
And it is alright, he is okay, until something catches against his wound.
White hot agony, trailing up and down his entire spine.
Philza... Philza doesn't tense, doesn't scream, doesn't fight - his instincts are strong and his instincts have saved him before and he's just an injured, mutilated bird in the hands of a predator and for a moment all he knows is fucking pain and PLAY DEAD.
He doesn't tense at the pain, he goes limp. He can't even choose how his breathing catches - stopped in his throat, wings slack, body slack, unmoving and unresponsive as can be.
Someone calls his name, but blind pain and blind terror are winning, as in the certainty that he must survive. His name comes again, more frantic, then as a scream-
A scream.
A familiar scream that isn't his own and-
Oh, /fuck/, humans don't play dead in the same way, do they?
Through the pain and the fear and the hands on him it's hard, it's so hard - harder still when he hears running feet from else where and everything he is screams /predator, predator, predator/ - but he does it.
Philza takes a deep, loud, gasping, purposeful breath, forces his body to lock again, forces himself to stop playing, to breathe.
The wonderful voice above him stops screaming and starts sobbing, fingers tracing his jawline as he sobs over and over again.
The running feet stop, and there's a discussion in quick, panicked Spanish - too quick for any Philza, but especially for an injured one - before other hands are touching him, pressing him, assessing him.
His instincts are desperate but Philza remembers the screams before. The fight is exhausting, harder than it should be, but he forces himself to keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing. Just for the voice, just for the wonderful person who owns the voice and he knows means the world to him.
He tries to stay awake, he really does, but there's only so much he can do. He's tired, and breathing is /exhausting/, and the lovely voice belonging to a stupid but brilliant man isn't singing to him any more, and the longer he's here the more he realises he must actually, legitimately, be safe.
Safe, what a funny idea. But a nice one.
Philza gives in to temptation, and lets himself fade.
If he's safe, he can let consciousness be someone else's problem.
---
Philza wakes next to a warm pillow, and frozen blankets, and the distinct smell of honey tea. There's no singing this time, but familiar fingers trace his cheek and Philza feels them and thinks /Missa/.
There's a steady bip bip, and a sting, and his existence is cloudy with painkillers.
All of those sensations - every single one - adds up to /probably/ a good thing.
This time, awake, Philza manages to open his eyes. His vision is blurry, but the light is dim, and he's able to drink in the image of his husband above him sipping on a steaming mug.
Missa's eyes gaze vacantly into the distance. Philza does not chase them down. Instead he reaches up a shaking hand, just about managing to make it high enough to stroke Missa's cheek.
He sees Missa blink, and look down, and whisper "Phil?"
Philza can only gather so much strength, but he smiles his soft smile and mouths back "Missa".
---
A few hours and a nap later, Philza is sat against Missa's chest, and curled in his arms. They're both in an exhausted daze, Philza never having really quite left one, and Missa having been running on fear for too long. It strains the stitches a little, but not so much it bleeds, and Philza will live.
He's had the summary of what happened - Missa found him in the woods, bought him back, called for help healing him even as he cleaned and stitched the wound himself. There's talk of the poison, about it being new, and the struggle to synthesise an antidote before they ran out of blood they could give him.
From the haunted look in everyone's eyes, it was a fucking close run thing.
He'll have to thank Pac and Mike later, for that. He's already asked Fit to pass the message on, along with dropping his communicator off for cleaning, upgrade, and repairs, but, fuck, he knows the sort of toll the two are willing to put themselves through for people, and he knows he owes them.
He hopes Mike stopped Pac poisoning himself this time - Jesus Fucking Christ that man will be the death of Fit one of these days - and given the turn around might even be correct about it.
Silver lining - there's now an antidote for the next time someone runs into one of those fucks, and Aypierre is already working on a way to mass produce it.
And then there's Roier to thank, who might still give Missa side eye at times - and what even happened there - but who knows his way around the hospital /and/ seems to have kept his husband something approximating calm, and then Tubbo let slip they'd had to round up blood donations from everyone compatible to keep him alive and make up for the blood loss and, fuck, at this point he should probably get Chayanne to help him batch cook a /lot/ of shortbread to box up and hand around.
And then there's Missa, his Missa...
He's not sure /why/ Missa sang until his throat could barely function, especially when Philza was too unconscious to appreciate it, but...
But it was also Missa who found him, who saved him.
Philza presses a kiss to his fingers, then presses those fingers against Missa's throat.
"Hm?" Missa asks. "Phil?"
"Thank you," Philza shifts his hand, keeping the backs of his fingers against Missa's throat as he strokes along his chin with his thumb.
"I didn't do much," Missa whispers, his voice still suffering.
"You found me," Philza says. "You saved me."
"The... wolves?" his voice lilts slightly on the word - with Philza's communicator gone and head missing a significant proportion of blood assigned to it, they're stuck in English. "They found you."
"They would have eaten me, not saved me."
"No!" Missa's eyes widen, and arms tighten around him. "No, they are good- good boys!"
"I'm teasing," Philza promises, and maybe he is now but it had been a very genuine fear at the time. "I'm teasing, it's okay, I'm okay..."
He's not, he feels like death, and the painkillers he's been given will wear off soon. But, he's breathing, he's alive, and it doesn't look like that's changing any time soon.
Missa curls around him, hugging him close, protecting him from all sides. It's a position Philza is intimately familiar with, having done it so many times for his children.
"I was scared," Missa's voice breaks. "I was scared - you scared me."
"I'm sorry," and Philza /is/, he never - he's never wanted to be the cause of such worry, such fear. "Missa, I- I'm so sorry."
"You were dead," Missa says, the sobs free and almost drowning his struggling voice. "You were dead, in my arms. I held you dead in my arms."
A mistranslation? Philza wouldn't be here, if he were dead, he knows that much for sure.
"I'm right here," Philza promises, rather than call out his confusion; English is hard, and it's no time for a grammar lesson. "You got my dumb ass out of there, and got help. We're okay, I'm okay."
"Don't leave me," Missa answers. "You're- you're- banned! No leaving me, never leaving me."
Philza doesn't think his words are reaching through the tears; he pools his strength, and reaches up, and holds his husband close. Missa's arms wrap around his chest - not tight, moving as he breathes and clinging to that pace.
"We're okay," Philza whispers - despite the exhaustion, despite the pain, despite the catheter still in his arm just in case the bleeding restarts and he needs another transfusion, despite how controlling his body is like piloting sludge. "We're okay."
And maybe, this time, they will be.
#qsmp fanfic#qsmp philza#qsmp missa#hurt/comfort#blood#major character injury#so uuuum I do know what happens here#but I didn't write Missa's PoV so....#i'll let you fill in the blanks#let's just say missa's english isn't that bad...#^-^#I waaaas going to have more scene where they talked after but... idk I liked this#also fun fact - missa has skeleton hands and so can't take someone's pulse#has no surface-level touch in his hands#he can feel pain if his bones break or you scratch them or make weird vibrations but that's nerves inside the bone#has none on the outside and bone too hard to shift with a pulse so...#cannot detect one
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I have quite the angsty request if you don’t mind 🥸
May I request the brothers reacting to an MC who’s died multiple times yet comes back to life due to a curse (let’s say it was supposed to be a ‘gift’ from Lilith to protect them) and they’re pretty passive/unhinged when it comes to dying? Like how the bros or some other demons would threaten to harm/kill MC and they’re just like “Stop talking and do it then” or “Not like it‘s the first time I died that way ☺️”
Disclaimer: MC isn’t suicidal but they just have no care/concern of their life since dying so brutally a lot and dealing with a lot of bullshit may have driven them insane over the years.
Hello! Thank you for waiting, I'm sorry I took kind of long. Here you go, enjoy!
The brothers with a Mc who is reckless with their life
important: Like the requester said, there is no theme of suicide present in this fic. However, I am aware that it might translate to it for some people. That's why I recommend you stay away from this if you think this post might upset you.
mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read
content warnings: (mentions of) death, mentions of injury, lesson 16 spoilers, self deprecation, not eating
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Lucifer
he is not letting you try anything funny around him
you might be immortal, yes, but that doesn't change the fact you can get seriously hurt
also, lucifer doesn't want to watch you 'die' again
Mammon
mammon is very upset about it, and he lets you know
'why you gotta go get yourself ended in some way, mc? ya know we gotta still watch it, right?'
every time mammon sees one of your 'deaths', he gets reminded of that day you died in his arms
Leviathan
sometimes, he lets you do it
after all, it's only understandable you'd want to after wasting your time with sonebody like him, right?
but that doesn't change the fact he hates this behavior, but he doesn't know how to express it
Satan
'no, mc, that is not happening'
sometimes he wonders if he's stopping you because he hates seeing you hurt, or he hates the effect it has on him, maybe both
he tries to keep an eye on you though, so you won't try anything
Asmodeus
every time you announce something related to dying, asmo comes up with some excuse on why you shouldn't do it
like, he'll say it's bad for your skin or something
really, he does not want to see you die, and he will get frustrated if you don't seem to realise that
Beelzebub
beel will do everything in his power to prevent you from doing anything
there have been times where he literally had to drag you away from the place you were about to try to 'die'
he hates seeing it so much to the point he doesn't eat for a while afterwards
Belphegor
he still feels guilty for his past actions, isn't it ironic he hates watching you 'die'?
belphie feels like he has no right to try stopping you, but he still does
he would melt down on the spot if you were to ask him to kill you again
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#omswd#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#lucifer#mammon#leviathan#obey me lucifer#asmodeus#beelzebub#belphegor#gn!mc#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#belphegor obey me#beelzebub obey me#beel obey me#obey me belphie#tw sewerslide
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It does mean something tho, the one who “provoked” is more responsible. Let’s be fr rn. They’re not on the same level. And by your own logic, if you can justify those actions of Israel… then aren’t you the same as the ones justifying Hamas?
I don’t agree with supporting Hamas, but Israel has been doing what Hamas does for way longer and way worse. Look at how their citizens view Palestine’s! Teenagers all smiling and purposely blocking trucks to prevent recourses being supplied to Gaza? All those video’s of soldiers and ex-soldiers laughing about r-wording (little) girls. Throwing a baby in a bakery’s oven and ordering the father to follow him? Just for “fun”. How would you justify that.
And I think it’s pointless to argue over Hamas as the only argument against Israel. Again, before you blow up, I don’t agree with Hamas. But everything they did, Israel has done to. Maybe even longer or worse. There is no weighing in what either party did in war, “whataboutism” is pointless when one has done worse. The “provoker” is in the wrong. They started it.
Also idk if they’re is something with your news outlets but they do target civilians? Small example, they 3 man dead in a hospital last week. Israel’s soldiers were disguised as women to get in?? Wtf. Tried to justify it by saying that they were members from Hamas, which turns out was a lie. One was a patient and the other two were guarding/looking over him. My country has no ties to either, it’s a neutral news outlet and I checked it myself so why would they lie about these things?
First, no they really aren't. Killing innocent civilians is not something that can be justifiably provoked. If you went out of your way to specifically target civilians, what whoever you're blaming your actions on did is IRRELEVANT. You targeted civilians. By definition innocents. By definition people who had nothing to do with whatever your excuse is. You cannot be provoked into killing innocent people.
And no, I'm justifying actions meant to defend innocent people from terrorists. People justifying Hamas are justifying killing innocent civilians. That is not the same thing.
And no, they really fucking haven't. XD I have yet to see even a single instance of them doing the same brutality that Hamas commits that wasn't lies spread as propaganda. And my oh my, some Israeli's view Palestinians poorly. Couldn't be because their government has been launching missiles at them for decades and Palestinians have literally posted videos of them cheering on the deaths of Israeli's or anything. No certainly not. They just must be racial supremacists or whatever justifies you condemning them viewing people who cheer on their deaths poorly.
And again, show me the proof of these teenagers blocking trucks from entering Gaza. Then explain how these Israeli teenagers got to Egypt, where the trucks are entering Gaza from. oh, and be sure to then explain how a handful of teenagers makes Israeli's them on the same level as people who cheer on terrorists butchering innocent people.
Feel free to provide proof of these soldiers joking about raping little girls, and again, go on to explain why that means anything. Same with them throwing a baby in an oven (a claim I've seen made about Hamas, not the IDF. Something tells me you're consuming too much terrorist propaganda).
No, they really fucking haven't. What Hamas has done, Israel did not fucking do too. And frankly, the fact that you think if they did it makes Hamas any less of the bad guy here for starting a war by killing over 1400 innocent people, kidnapping over 200 more and then using the population of a country as human shields when the country they attacked retaliates to the CONSTANT AGGRESSION being capitalized with the worst terror attack since 9/11. Atrocities do not justify attrocities. And if you answer atrocity by butchering innocent people, you are NOT fighting atrocity. You are just looking for a reason to be a killer.
And no, actually, everything I've seen about the "killing 3 men in a hospital" thing happened in the West Bank, not Gaza, and there has so far been no proof these were real Israeli soldiers acting under orders. They could easily have been extremists. As for why they'd lie, are you fucking kidding me? XD non-palestinian sources have been spreading lies about this conflict from the jump, there is every reason to assume they're fucking lying. Plenty of countries, like South Africa, are trying to use this conflict to distract from bad shit in their own countries, why wouldn't even more try to do the same?
And besides, even if they are Israeli soldiers, infiltrating a hospital to kill 3 suspected terrorists is not the same thing as mass-butchering innocent people. These are not comparable actions! Yeah, they're both wrong, but one is INFINITELY worse than the other!
It's not whataboutism. One side is a terrorist organization killing innocent people en-mass. People calling out blatant lies, misinformation and propaganda spread by pro-palestine idiots with the intention to make Israel seem Evil and thus ok to genocide while ignoring Hamas' actions is not whataboutism. Wanting you to acknowledge that Hamas is not the fucking good guys is not whataboutism. You can easily criticize Israel without spreading lies or defending terrorists.
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Was Sawa-sensei really the only argument Yagami had? The answer may shock you
So, few people know that I fucking despise this take. It's been fun and still can be fun to me sometimes, but as time goes, I see more and more people thinking that unironically and even hate Yagami for this, among other things.
(Huge spoilers for both games ahead. Obviously.)
And I do a lot of (over)thinking myself, as I am writing a looong fic (first three chapters already live on ao3, sorry for shameless promo), and I always love to delve into characters' motives in canon events, goes with writing exclusively canon compliant things of course, and adding to my ever existing brainworms. Moreover, I'm revisiting Judgment atm for the first time since early 2020 if I'm being correct? And I see a lot of things I've forgotten which give lots what has happened in Lost Judgment pretty damn much sense. The Sawa argument is among these things.
First things first, what was the takeaway of the first game for Yagami? His trauma at first was that he fucked up bad and felt he had lost some crucial evidence that Okubo was actually the killer, but during the events of the game it transforms into "I haven't done anything to get to the truth". His trauma, as well Kuwana's, has its core in their inaction during the critical events of their lives. They were never the same again because they didn't do anything while they could, and yes, in that regard they are wounded in the same way.
How have they both responded? In a similar way. Yagami swore to always get involved there he can do something to change the situation before it escalates. Kuwana does the opposite, he tries to punish for the mistakes already made. (Which is funny considering that Yagami as a lawyer dealt with consequences while Kuwana as a teacher had the power to navigate people's lives to prevent the same mistakes, but it's the whole other theme in itself, and has little to do with the initial one.) Let's focus on Yagami though.
The only reason why Yagami repeatedly gets involved on his own in the Lost Judgment plot time and time again, though literally nobody asked him to do so, is the lesson which he learns in the first game. He says explicitly that he wants to get to the bottom of things, and not forget about cases when a trial is done. That's the reason why he doesn't want to be a lawyer again and why he can never be one again, not full-time at least.
And then Sawa gets murdered. Yagami draws parallel to Terasawa Emi (because of course he does) and is determined to bring everyone who is responsible for her death to the light. For now, it's Soma, the direct murderer, and Kuwana, which made Sawa the connecting thread between his crimes. Yagami realizes that Sawa's death was a tool for everyone to get what they wanted, like Emi's. He references it here:
At this point, Yagami has no proof to think otherwise. He thinks that everyone has forgot about Sawa and that she shouldn't have died. The very least Yagami could do, is to make sure everyone will answer for what they did to her. He sees that Kuwana feels guilty and quite shitty that the student which he thinks so highly of was murdered. Kuwana feels responsible, and Yagami knows that someday he will break.
I think it's also important to say that at no point of LJ has Yagami says anything remotely identifying the goal of his words and actions as "murder bad", but that's more obvious than anything else though requires explanation too if I'm to be believed that Yagami isn't after justice for all the murders.
This whole scene is the Sawa argument summarized, but if you look closer, it is really the only beef he has against Kuwana.
BTW he's not as goody two shoes as you prefer to see him in LJ, if his "I get how you feel" doesn't convince you.
And then the one person Kuwana is determined to do anything for has betrayed him, right before Yagami's eyes. What does Kuwana do? Abandon Yagami when Soma has said to his lackeys to do anything so he wouldn't escape, even murder him perhaps?
Great question, Yagami. This really does contradict everything he has thought of Kuwana since forever. After, instead of a goodbye Kuwana makes sure Soma couldn't stay on the boat longer and kidnap/kill Yagami. RK had no time for that, fleeing was the priority over someone they can find some time after.
First thing Yagami does is visit Kusumoto at the hospital, where he learns she has no regard to Kuwana's life, as long as her son is safe and her crime stays uncovered. Which is fine, I guess, though it's sad because Kuwana would do anything for her and for Mitsuru, but whatever. Ehara doesn't come around too, which also understandable, though Kuwana has risked his life to give Yagami the crucial evidence, he is nothing to him and has already played his part. He is just a tool in his revenge. Wait... What?
Yes, actually it's Kuwana who is being brushed off as collateral damage by everyone. Everyone he has helped actually. And he hasn't come clean during the time before Ehara's trial (he at least could leak the information or point to the body without endangering himself, idk) nor he disappeared to save his skin.
After the trial he thanks Yagami for helping Ehara (which Kuwana wasn't able to do himself) and points to his, and Kawai's body, location. Kuwana knows damn well he can die, but getting to the one who murdered Sawa is more important to him. So, Kuwana has no one on his side, even himself.
No one is going to save him. Sure, he isn't as innocent as Emi, he has fucked some shit up. Does he deserve to disappear for good and be forgotten, or even worse, be remembered as a psycho teacher who killed his student? Yagami doesn't think so. All Yagami sees is that Kuwana desperately tries to protect everyone who did everything right or did nothing at all, every victim of bullying. He has no other motive.
Yagami takes no shit from Kuwana, he isn't afraid or angry when Kuwana threatens to blow up the warehouse (as Sugiura and Higashi for example). He knows that Kuwana isn't capable of killing anyone who doesn't deserve it, he takes no pleasure in murder and doesn't do it for personal gain. Yagami, Kaito, everyone else aren't guilty of anything which deserves death as punishment.
If not for the gang, he would set off the bomb though, I'm 100% sure. But that's besides the point.
So, returning to the question: Was Sawa-sensei really the only argument Yagami had? An answer is yes. Because he really doesn't fucking care bullies are being murdered, slay worstie. But it's not because he's such a crappy lawyer, but because he realizes the importance of a person's life above everything else. And a person who cares is not necessarily stupid or unprofessional.
You can argue all you want who was right and who was wrong. It doesn't matter for the characters.
It was never about justice. They don't argue from a legal point of view. It was about remembering about the importance of a person's life.
I beg you to look at this story from another perspective. Not as a technical coldly-perfect story it should've been. People are imperfect, and Yagami, first and foremost, a person. A person who cares. And JE with LJ as stories can be imperfect... but also realistic.
Terasawa Emi is murdered for the greater good. Sawa is murdered for selfish reasons. Kuwana is almost murdered for the both. I can't imagine Yagami would want to go through lots of red tape to do something someday. He does this something right now. Because the lives of people, living and breathing, should be protected right now and valued above what's right legally.
Please, stop looking at fiction as something which should be perfect, or make more sense, be more logical and emotionally detached than the real world. Some can be like that, but Judgment hasn't been from the start.
#lost judgment#lost judgment spoilers#yagami takayuki#kuwana jin#judge eyes#eugh#i'm unbearable#and idk maybe its obvious actually. but for some it may not be. i dunno at this point#kuwagami#putting letters together one word at a time
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hello i am here to remind you that lan wangji did not wait for wei wuxian for 13/16 years because wei wuxian died. (now with edits!)
people don't come back from death! what happened to wei wuxian was the first time it had ever happened and probably the only time i would happen (at least in a long time) because the riutal can only be done under certain conditions, i.e. someone has to be willing to sacrifice themself, you have to call a spirit that is vicious enough etc. and most importantly, lan wangji had no idea about any of it being a possibility! [edit: only four people had used to ritual before mo xuanyu - so my point still stands i just forgot that detail - source: "only three or four examples [of using the sacrificial ritual] have been proven to be true" novel chapter 2]
lan wangji did not wait because waiting implies that he knew wei wuxian would come back, which he didn't because he died. he spent those 13/16 years mouring and taking care of lan sizhui, the only connection he still has with wei wuxian. he spent those years preparing to spend the rest of his life in mourning and wearing white mourning robes!
he played inquiry [edit: lan wangji does this in the donghua, consider that canon or fanon] to try to talk to wei wuxian but lan wangji's cultivation and skill with the qin language is so powerful that spirits he calls must answer him truthfully! so when he'd call for wei wuxian and get no answer: that was his proof that he had died. then he would ask other spirits if they knew what happened to wei wuxian, where he was, how he was etc. none of them knew anything about wei wuxian. [edit: spirits cannot lie to lwj when he uses inquiry (as seen in chapter 22: "Under his
[lwj's] control, the spirit who came was unable to lie, and had definitely been
answering the truth.") and lsz reveals that some people have the power to ensure spirits must answer in chapter 37: "the spirit that i summon will be able to avoid answering, but will not be able to lie. so, if it is willing to answer, then it will definitely speak the truth." this doesn't exactly mean that lwj has this skill but when speaking with jin ling, it says that lwj has mastered qin language in chapter 22: "As he mastered the language, without any hesitation, Lan WangJi
confidently played a few limpid notes."]
because wei wuxian hasn't born to a sect, he didn't go through the rituals to make sure his spirit would reincarnate so when he died he turned into a spirit but because even his spirit was torn apart by ghosts and demons he was unable to do anything. [edit: i worded this weirdly - i was trying to say that the ritual prevented people from becoming ghosts and that wwx didn't have this ritual because he was the son of a servant and wasn't raised in a sect. this is mentioned in chapter 60: "disciples of famous
clans, like Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan, had been affected by their clan
and their clan’s treasures since they were young. When they grew up,
they’d receive countless soul-calming ceremonies so that there was only a
miniscule chance of them becoming ferocious ghosts. But Wei WuXian was
different. He was the son of a servant. He didn’t grow up in the Jiang Sect
since birth, either. He didn’t have the chance to go through so many
ceremonies. If after he really died with too much resentful energy and
became a ferocious ghost to haunt them, it’d be quite a pain."] he spent those 13/16 years being fully unconscious and aware of what was happening but not having the power to do anything about it. he was in literal hell for 13/16 years! [edit: this you'll have to bare with me because i read it in a tweet and can no longer find it ;-; basically it stated what i said] so no spirits knew what happened to him and he couldn't answer to lan wangji's inquiry!
in conclusion, lan wangji did not wait!! [edit: it's still wrong to say that lwj waited for wwx even if i got stuff wrong lmao]
#it's a simple fact but i see so many people say lwj waiting for wwx on the daily and it's just /wrong/#lan wangji#mdzs lan wangji#cql#mdzs#the untamed#wei ying#wei wuxian#lan zhan#mo dao zu shi#mdzs wei wuxian#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#wangxian#starrywangxian#now with edits !
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SMARTIN'!
it is your time to shine!!! please send some great (not too long... under... around 10k words please) hurt/comfort fic rec? (preferably where john hurt his leg/foot...)
love
-your dumbass and broken turtely
Why do you send this to me while I am on vacation? And something so specific, and with such a limit? But ok, I'll try my best. Because I like you.
Warning- most fics are quite graphic.
Not Dying Today by Morgan_Stuart (2.659 words)
The first (and only) time John saw Sherlock and Anderson work well as a team without complaint, they were performing CPR on Lestrade.
Breathe into me by Moonlessnite (2.672 words)
Sherlock and John are caught in an unexpected explosion.
Death meets, and loses them both, so they can find each other.
Catastrophe Medicine by lasuen (11.061 words)
Chasing after a pyromaniac bomber Sherlock and John wind up in a deserted building which explodes and leaves them trapped under the rubble, both severely injured. Some hard-core bromance ensued.
Code 221b by whitchry9 (6.528 words) (John actually injures a leg in one of the chapters)
Sherlock Holmes is well known to the paramedics of London. So when John Watson comes into the picture, it seems like a fantastic solution. Someone would take care of Sherlock and prevent all those problems. Of course, they didn't think about what would happen if John was hurt. (They really should have.)
Crash by Laur (4.592 words)
John is hit by a car and Sherlock reacts rather strongly. I imagine this happening some time between The Hounds of Baskerville and The Reichenbach Fall.
The Third Brother by uglycrow (4.586 words)
During the legwork of a case, John is injured preventing an attack made on Sherlock; with help a ways away and John's injury too much to leave alone, he has no choice but to talk Sherlock through the necessary steps to treat him.
Moments of Peace (Amidst the Chaos) by FannishMinded (words 1.964)
John heard the screech, and his eyes whipped to the side as he desperately tried to move forward, just get across, get out of the- it was too late. He was shoved, pushed, flying, he wasn’t sure of anything besides that in this second, he might die- and by something as stupid as being hit by a car. It was silent, long seconds as he bounced, he knew his arm at least had taken most of the brunt of the blow. Time sped up as he took his next breath, then he took another. His arm was splayed out, broken, left arm, always that damn side… right knee, dislocated, probably. Another breath, sound, rushing sound, wind near him, he looked over, and he screamed.
Silver Linings in Golden Tinsel by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (7.081 words)
Sometimes, you have to lose your house to find your home.
The Shoulder by LMDrums (3.999 words)
What happens when John takes an unexpected blow to the shoulder during a case?
Emergency Measures by Quietlymischievous (3.791 words)
A few minutes later, after the laughter had run its course, John nudged Sherlock’s foot with his own. “Thank you for saving my life, Sherlock. Thank you for all the times you have saved my life.”
Sherlock pressed his foot back against John’s. “I’ve been told it’s the thing to do when one has a friend.”
John gains more proof his friend is definitely not a sociopath.
A Dangerous Mix by bakerstreetgirl (7.728 words)
John gets injured during a case and returns to Baker Street without Sherlock to nurse his wound. Everything is fine and John had been his happy, calm self. So why does Sherlock find him with a mysterious drug running through his veins a short while later? Will John survive? For once, Sherlock is clueless, but luckily Lestrade is more competent in a crisis than Sherlock gives him credit for and Sherlock makes a decision that will affect the rest of his life.
Very Good Indeed by stillwaters01 (4.144 words)
John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body:
Not many with a foot/ leg injury that fit within the 10k word limit.
So, I'll add a few which go slightly over the yord limit. ;)
You've Got A Friend by LyricalSinger (20.515 words)
When John gets injured at the end of a case, Sherlock announces that he will be the one to aid John during his recovery because he is the best person to take on the job … obviously. While John has no qualms about putting his fate in the hands of his flatmate, it seems everyone else does
Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (75.216 words)
"I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."
The last one is in this list simply because I wanted @bakertumblings included who writes such great John whump and whump in general. Also, it is my favourite fic- and it even includes a leg injury! :D
These are just the ones from my bookmarks, there are more I have read and liked, but don't have the time to find back now. Enjoy!
#john watson#sherlock holmes#johnlock#hurt comfort#fic recs#fanfiction#john watson whump#hurt john watson
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Criminal delegate: Good morning.
Alien Delegate: *staring at the human sitting on their chair sipping tea* ... It's afternoon.
CD: ... So it is. Do you know who I am?
AD: ... An intruder on a delegate for-
CD: *waving their comment off* a bunch of important people way up there. Yes, I am aware of what I literally am in this situation. But, do you know who I represent?
AD: ... A fool who has- *reaches for hidden laser gun*
CD: *flings a button into their hand, leaving a bruise* You sir, are writing a report on the current state-
AD: *snaps close their laptop*
CD: ... Are you aware I didn't know entirely?
AD: *slowly realising their mistake*
CD: ... And you've all but confirmed what was an unconfirmed guess on my part?
AD: ... And what do you want?
CD: the same as your predecessor would ask. I am a representative of a large faction who keeps the criminal underground together.
AD: *silent, betweens scowling and spitting words out* And why-
CD: If you wish to get off this planet alive and unharmed, I suggest you at the very least listen and transmit my terms.
AD: ... *Scoff laughing* you think-
CD: *snaps fingers. Lasers appear over their chest.* I think it's be wise to at least hear me out, I'd hate to bloody this suit.
AD: ... You're joking.
CD: I'm not, my wife sew this by hand. I'd very much prefer not to get it stained, now. Would you like a seat? *Waves hand to seat beside them, tea set for them.*
AD: ... You threaten me-
CD: I would like you to consider what kind of clientele I must co-ordinate and communicate with. It's practically standard protocol to show how well organised and powerful you are.
AD: *practically foaming at the mouth* You think that threatening-
CD: They have mining bases up there, right?
AD: *freezes*... Yes?
CD: What would it be like, if a mine inspection by your organisation occured and not only did they fail to show their equipment, safety. State and general affairs, were drunk, disorderly and unprofessional?
AD: ... It'd be highly out of order, now-
CD: *cutting over them* Now. WE are a criminal organisation that organises anything from a local smuggling ring-
AD: You-
CD: *louder* WHICH MEANS, for instance. An illegal shifting of goods for birthdays, rapid legal drug and other dangerous goods transport. We deal with the messy part of society, you have everything clean.
AD: *silent, staring at the teacup* ... And why does that matter-
CD: *sigh* Notice how I have raised no hands to you, only shone the light of a sniper rifle as a proof I have the capacity to end you if this were to get... Messy. Think about the higher end clientele, what do you think would happen if we didn't have that protocol?
AD: *scowling and silent*
CD: and what would happen if we weren't here?
AD: ... If you're trying to convince me-
CD: We're not. We are only here because, like any other company, there is profit to be made doing this. Sure, we may be staffed, deal with and clean up the scum of society. But would you rather devils with standards, or devils with ideals?
AD: ... What's the difference you're all criminals.
CD: ... A young adolescent stealing something to impress a girl is far different from a man who ransoms shipping lines. If we weren't here, those kinds of things would happen randomly. Uncoordinated, resulting in millions of deaths that could be prevented.
AD: ... Is that meant to be some kind of argument?
CD: no. It's a sales pitch. Our, associates. They will be moving to, clean up your operations. We are merely an independent branch working to maintain the peace of normal society.
AD: ... And your terms?
CD: Nothing, we may pay a tax, you may hire our services and any issue raised by our operation, if it is our fault. We will pay in full, with all interest up front. In return, you may only interfere where necessary.
AD: ... And?
CD: If you refuse, very well. We will do our work without communication to you, unless you come to request it. We will provide no hints, no details. You will be treated as a hostile government and will need to earn our trust.
AD: ... So-
CD: Not bribery. Cooperation. We inform you of what we can do, if crime were truly as unnecessary as your people believe, then we shall cease to exist as society continues. However, we have existed within society as this operation for the last ten thousand or so years.
AD: ... And I am to accept these terms?
CD: *Shakes head* No. You are to hear us out, our explanation and decide where to go next. If you wish for a cooperative relationship, we offer you it now. Good day.
AD: ... That's it?
CD: *Folds files into backpack* ... Yes.
AD: You forgot-
CD: That is for you. Good day fine sir. *Leaves*
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Text
Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾
— Chapter VIII
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Théodore Nott
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness
Warnings: mention of death, mention of childhood trauma
Hogwarts
Sunday, May 4, 1997
“Voldemort’s gone, F/n,” Draco said stiffly. Those were his first words to you since you’d ended things with Cedric. Apparently, the possibility of the most powerful dark wizard of all time coming back superseded any resentment he still felt. Though his attention stayed fixed on picking at his comforter—the one you’d all been perfectly content on by the lake not even a month ago.
“I know, but he’s come back once before. What if somehow he survived that night during the Tournament?” You knew it sounded crazy. There was no proof that it had been anything but a dream, but you knew it was more than that. You just did. All you needed was for them to believe that, too.
His gray eyes finally flicked to where you were sat cross-legged on Theo’s bed. You focused on breathing. “Let’s say he did survive; why did he enter your mind? Why would he be targeting you?”
You merely blinked at him. You had no clue.
He quirked a brow when you opened your mouth and closed it again. You should smack him.
“It doesn’t matter why he did it,” Theo snapped, “We need to focus on doing something to prevent it from happening again.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Four sixth-years blocking the most powerful dark wizard from my mind; just another Sunday morning.” Your voice edged on hysterical. You were seventeen years old, why were you being faced with something like this? Though, to be fair, Harry Potter had dealt with Voldemort at much younger ages. You were starting to understand him a bit more. “I think we should ask Harry for help.”
Theo and Draco were watching you with creased brows. You couldn’t really read their thoughts. “I agree,” Blaise said, “Harry dealt with You-Know-Who for years under the school’s noses. He’s bound to know something to help.”
“Well, the Chosen One can work on getting rid of Voldemort. F/n and I are going to work on keeping him out of her head.” Draco’s voice was stiff and determined. No matter how much you’d hurt him and he tried not to, he cared about you and your safety. His eyes darted up to yours. “You up for some Occlumency lessons?”
A few hours later, you and Draco were facing a blank wall. Harry had been distressed by the news of your so-called ‘dream,’ instantly deciding the best thing would be to go to Dumbledore. He’d also agreed it’d be best for you to learn how to block Voldemort from your mind, for the safety of plans as well as your own.
“So, where’s the door then?”
Draco let out a humored breath. “It’s the Room of Requirement, the door only appears if you require the room.”
You looked at him with your brows raised. “And we do require it, so where’s the door?”
He simply nodded his head towards the wall, and when you turned back to it a tall double door stood where there were formerly bricks. He was such a smart-ass sometimes.
When you crossed the threshold, you were met with a room softly lit by narrow windows and a lambent fire. The cream colored walls were filled with serene landscape paintings; the kind you’d study and imagine yourself dozing happily in the grass.
“Does it always look like this?” you asked, plopping down on one of the two caramel leather couches sat across from each other.
“No, the room designs itself based on the needs of the user. We needed a space where you could clear your head, and it provided.” The magic had followed the assignment to a t; this room was the definition of minimalistic. No clutter, no distractions.
“Alright, let’s get to it, then.” You crossed your knees, looking at him expectantly. His pale hair and complexion contrasted handsomely with his black t-shirt. Like day and night. Maybe there was one distraction. “What do I need to do?”
He was completely unaware of your internal ambivalence. “Well, the main goal is to be able to shut down your mind so there isn’t anything to find when Legilimens force their way in.”
“Oh, yeah, piece of cake.”
Draco looked unamused by the sarcasm dripping in your voice. He paced in front of the fire. “Occlumency is one of the hardest branches of magic to master, F/n. I want you to take this seriously. Voldemort’s power is no joke, and his Legilimency is no exception.”
Your heart raced at the thought. Voldemort had been terrifying enough in your ‘dream,’ you couldn’t imagine the crushing weight of his presence in person. “Where do I even start?” Your voice was small. Scared.
For a split second Draco seemed caught off guard before his steel armor reformed. “To start off with, you should try visualizing your thoughts and emotions being locked away. The most common visuals would be doors, vaults, even books. It doesn’t matter what you choose, as long as it works.”
“What about you?”
There it was again, the armor crumbling before repairing itself. He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
“Someone’s taught you this, haven’t they? What do you visualize?”
Draco turned towards the fire, hands stuffed into his pockets. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he wanted it that way. It was easier for him to open up if he wasn’t looking at you. Just like the night he kissed you in the Astronomy tower. “My Aunt Bellatrix taught me before I started school. She was one of Voldemort’s most devoted followers. As you know, it cost her in the end..” Bellatrix Lestrange had jumped in front of Harry’s spell at the very second Voldemort was casting the Killing Curse. She lost her life to the very Wizard she’d lived for. “But her devotion makes it mean so much more that she wanted to protect me from him. When I was learning to close off my mind I- I shut the pieces of myself behind doors identical to the door of my father’s office. It was what my adolescent self considered an unreachable place.”
You imagined a young Draco, craving the attention and praise of his father. Only to be kept from him by a mere door. It made your heart ache.
Saying nothing, you silently crossed the room to stand in front of him. His head was bowed, his eyes scrunched shut with pain. His hands were bunched into fists in his pockets. Reaching up, you ran your thumb over his cheek. His subtle flinch quickly turned to him leaning into your touch. You were uncertain if you imagined the quiet whimper that escaped him. It broke your heart regardless.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Draco’s head next to yours. He held you tight, breathing in the scent of your hair. And just standing there holding him, you could feel the tension and emotions roll off his shoulders. No words were needed. It reminded you of your mother—how she would hold you in this same way and just being in her arms made it feel as if the world and it’s worries had slipped away.
“Candles,” you whispered.
“Hm?” Draco hummed in question, pulling back enough to look at you. His eyes were droopy with a sense of ease.
“You know how my mother owns a candle shop? She’s made candles and been fascinated with their properties since before I was born. It’s her own magic in a way. I want to use candles for my Occlumency.”
One might say it’s selfish that you were sharing a loving sentiment about your mother right after Draco opened up to you about his strained relationship with his father. But they wouldn’t know what they’re talking about. To the two of you, that way of thinking is what’s selfish. You were both there for each other, and sympathy needn’t be expressed to be sensed.
“That’s a great idea, F/n.” He smiled. “Form candles out of your memories and hide them among the shelves. Being formed from a powerful emotion will make them even sturdier.”
“Like…now?” Your voice was just over a whisper. That was easier said than done.
Chuckling, Draco took your hand and led you to one of the couches. “Get in a comfortable position and relax your body and mind.” You did as he said, laying on the plush leather and doing a few deep breathes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Now, visualize yourself in your mind-space. Build up your mother’s shop and leave the shelves empty for your use.” His voice was soothing and quiet, it remind you of a yoga instructor you once saw in– F/n. Focus.
Taking another deep breath in through your nose, you imagined yourself. At first, you stood in a blank space. It reminded you of your ‘dream,’ but the space was made of light instead of darkness. Then, at your will, the shop started materializing from the floor up. Soon, it was like you were truly there. The Ebony wood floors transitioning into the ceiling-high shelves awaiting your creations. The work table—a circular counter with materials taking up every inch—stood dead center atop a plum colored rug. You wondered how no one looked twice at your mother, her shop had a very Witchy vibe.
“Got it.” Your voice sounded distant, echoey.
“Good, good. Try something small first.” Draco’s voice was much like your own, far off in some other place. Like disembodied Gods of this dimension you’d built inside your head. “A small, meaningless memory.”
You were in the backyard of your family home, picking Dandelions so your mom could weave them into a crown for you. Imagining the memory as a marble, you willed a yellow candle to form in the container. A hole was left at the top of the already dried wax, and when you dropped the memory into the center of the candle it sealed itself off with a wick. Definitely not how candles are actually made. But efficient.
« Chapter Seven || Masterlist || Chapter Nine »
Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the gap between updates I’m the worst ahh
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#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter story#draco malfoy#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#theo nott x reader#theo nott fanfiction#theodore nott#theo x reader#draco x reader x theo
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