#A R Gurney

[willstafford]

Doggy Style

SYLVIA The Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Wednesday 5th April 2023 A R Gurney’s comedy from 1995 gets a spirited revival at the Crescent.  Telling the story of New York empty nesters, Greg and Kate who find their lives overturned by the arrival of Sylvia, a dog Greg brings home from the park.  An instant bond forms between Greg and the dog, fast becoming an obsession, but Kate is less than…

[cheatingtime]

Tom? *smiles*

:}

[do-you-know-this-play]

[moonstruckme]

I’m begging for emt marauders where r dislocated her shoulder a stupid way and so r goes to another hospital to avoid them but then they show up bc their hospital is was on a bypass and see r

Thanks for requesting!

cw: shoulder injury no description

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

It’s dark, and despite the cloak of poor lighting and the distance between you, you lock eyes with James from across the parking lot. His brows furrow and he nearly drops the gurney he’s lowering out of his ambulance, Sirius hopping down to help. You see his lips form your name. 

Sirius’ head snaps up. 

There’s nowhere to hide. You shoot them a sheepish smile, your footsteps stalling before you remember to get out of the crosswalk. Remus’ head appears a moment later, peering out of the back of the ambulance. He helps James lower their patient onto the pavement, the both of them shooting worried glances at you as they wheel him inside and Sirius takes off towards you. 

“What the fuck?” he calls as he jogs over. Your boyfriend’s dark hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and it gleams under the fluorescent lights outside the hospital. He looks from your face, to where you’re holding your arm tight to your side, and back again. “What are you doing here?” 

“I, um, didn’t think I’d see you.” It’s out before you can think it through, but in all fairness you’re having a bit of a strenuous evening. 

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “That’s not what I asked. Sweetheart, what did you do to yourself?” 

You rub your lips together, feeling suddenly very sorry for yourself. Your shoulder really does hurt a lot. “I think I might’ve dislocated my shoulder?” 

“How’d you manage that?”

You hesitate. “Don’t laugh.” 

“Don’t laugh about what?” James asks as he joins you. Remus isn’t far behind. James peers at your arm, looking about as sorry for you as you are. “Are you hurt?” 

“She thinks she’d dislocated it,” Sirius informs him. 

“What were you doing?” Remus moves to your side, setting a comforting hand on your back as he touches near it gingerly. You hiss through your teeth and he stops. 

“You guys can’t laugh at me,” you insist. 

“Well, now I think I might not be able to help myself.” Sirius is smiling at you slightly, though his brows are still bunched with sympathy. “Come on, out with it.” 

You chew your bottom lip. Remus’ eyebrow lifts expectantly. “Okay,” you breathe out, “um, you know how I’ve been going out to rollerskate lately?” 

Remus’ expression clouds over. “I told you that was dangerous,” he says. “Were you wearing your pads?”

“Angel, this late?” James appears scandalized. “It’s been dark for hours!” 

You feel your face heat, growing more sheepish by the second. Sirius gives you a stern look. “Go on,” he says. 

“There was decent lighting and everything, but I accidentally started going down this hill, and I was going, um, really quite fast.” All three of your boyfriends tense in anticipation. “So I threw myself into the grass and I think I landed on my shoulder wrong.” 

Sirius gives a little chuckle, ignoring your glare. “You think?”

“Okay, I’ll admit,” says Remus, “that is a slightly funny image. But it’s less funny that you actually got hurt, dove. Did you come all the way out here just to avoid running into us?” 

You’re too surprised to hide your wince. Trust Remus to have you completely pegged without so much as a conversation. 

James’ lips part at your reaction. “Did you really?” 

“What are you even doing here?” you ask, shamefaced. 

Sirius crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. “Our hospital’s on bypass,” he answers. 

You shrink further under the intensity of his gaze. 

“Angel,” James sighs. He steps closer and cups the back of your head, resting his lips heavily on your hairline. “Well, there’s no avoiding us now,” he says, straightening. “We haven’t taken our breaks yet, want us to sit with you while they get you sorted?” 

“Yes, please,” you reply in a small voice. 

Remus makes a compassionate sound in his throat, encouraging you towards the entrance with his hand on your back. “We’d better get you in, then. Hopefully we’ll be able to expedite things with the three of us here.” 

You start to relax, two of your boyfriends seemingly haven forgiven your secrecy. You chance a look at the third, still watching you with a stern expression as you walk towards the hospital doors. He catches your look and flicks up a brow. 

“You’d better still tell me I’m handsome when my hair is all gray,” he says, in the kind of severe tone that makes you doubt whether he’s teasing. “It’s already starting at the roots, and you’re entirely to blame.” 

You quell the urge to smile. “You’ll always be handsome,” you tell him sincerely. 

“That’s the attitude.” Sirius walks backwards in front of you, pecking you firmly on the lips before falling back into step beside you. “Keep rehearsing those lines, sweetheart. I’ll be needing to hear them more often if you keep up with this rollerskating bullshit.” 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

One freebie

It was not a good movie. You'd told them that. And warned Damian that it might not be a good pick for movie night.

But the room had gone from heckling the movie and teasing you- to silent. Every crack to your face. Every insult. Every brutal moment. It was the one thing that was actually acted well.

The tears looked real.

And no one could turn to look at Bruce. Who was watching his wife be 'interrogated' for being a spy. Helplessly awaiting rescue- not sure if anyone is coming but doing her damnest to feed the enemy convincing false information.

Time ticks by and Bruce tightens his grip on you. Reassuring himself that this isn't real. That you're not bleeding in some god forsaken prison. But you're here. With him, doing movie night with the family. That when this is over he can take you to bed and forget about the image of anyone hurting you- a fear he had that he can visualize more clearly.

It's not until you're kissing the hero on a gurney. As he swears you'll be okay- that any of them can breathe again. Or turn to steal a glance at Bruce.

"And that," you say, clearing your throat, "Was how they got around the "can't kill her off" part of my contract. It's also why this movie got an R rating."

"Disgusting," Stephanie declared, pulling a face.

"Bad pick, Dami," Dick admonished. "It's not even a good movie-"

"I thought it was important to showcase a broader range of my stepmother's talents," Damian scoffed.

Jason rolled his eyes, "As if, you little weirdo. You saw the R rating and figured it had a sex scene and you'd embarrass her."

"I did no-"

"Enough," Bruce said roughly, finally recovering his voice, "common sense should dictate not showing movies where Y/N is naked or being beaten half to death in front of everyone. Agreed, Damian?"

"Yes, father," Damian answered. "But that wasn't-"

"Regardless," Bruce said. "It's poor taste. Y/N doesn't like doing those projects as it stands- If you want to play her movies to tease her, I can't stop it but let's not torment her unnecessarily."

"Fair enough," Dick said stretching, "Do we at least get to know how this shit show ends?"

"No one hits me anymore and there's one awkward make-out at the end," you tell Bruce, snuggling into his side.

"Spoilers!" Stephnie and Jason yell pelting you with popcorn.

"Hn."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

"You need your ACL reconstructed."

Price stared at the doctor as she leafed through the scans of his stupid bloody knee, blinking rapidly as he tried to process just exactly how fucked he was. He was running the calculations and the answer was coming up: significantly.

After it had given out on a recent yomp with Bravo Company, he has given in and skulked into medical like a whipped hound. There was only so much ibuprofen a man could neck with his coffee before it became farcical. His stomach was beginning a small revolt. Eventually, his mind unable to accept what it had just heard, he cleared his throat. "Come again?"

She sighed, running a hand through her neat crop of grey hair. After dealing with his bullshit for nearly twelve years, she had no patience left for it. "You're having surgery John, and I'm signing you off for four weeks after. From there, it'll be six months before you return to the field."

"Not happening." Price pushed off the gurney and did a rather shite job of hiding the wince as his knee gave another unwelcome spasm when his foot hit the floor. He remembered the landing that had finally done it; a routine jaunt through Belgrade. Nothing too taxing. Uneven ground, some loose gravel and a distraction because of static through Comms, and he'd gone arse over tit. Gaz had been amused until he realised Price had been struggling to get back up again.

Fucking embarrassing.

"You can huff and puff as much as you want, captain. My decision's final," she said, emphasising his rank to put his impending tantrum in perspective, and then, for good measure, "also, your cortisol levels are high, which is probably why you're getting a bit soft in the midsection. The time off is needed."

"Olright, Janie, bloody hell, no need to go for the throat." He placed a hand on his belly, prodding the layer of give with a sad sigh. "What the fuck am I meant to do for four weeks?"

"Read, go fishing, binge Netflix, catch up with family. You know, what normal people do for R&R..." She glanced up at him and rolled her eyes at the deep frown on his face. "Stop thinking of ways to bribe and blackmail me. I'm booking the surgery for a week's time."

"A week isn't long enough."

"Tough shit. Lost your appetite recently? Belching like a retired general at a Number 10 dinner?"

Price squinted. "Yeah."

"Congratulations, you gave yourself a stomach ulcer by slamming the ibuprofen like Polos," Janie murmured, turning over her notes to annotate her recommendations. "Four weeks--

"--fockin' hell, come in with a limp and leave in a fockin' body bag--"

"--so that's five weeks enforced leave."

Price opened his mouth to argue the toss but it clicked shut when she raised an eyebrow at him. He knew better than to push his luck. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me marm, John. It makes me feel old." She tapped her biro against the clipboard and then gripped it against her stomach, her head tilted, as she considered his miserable sulk. "You need to consider that promotion in the next few years."

"It'll take me outta the field," Price grumbled.

"If you snap something else at the wrong moment, then a bullet's going to take you out of the field. Think it over."

Nikprice Hurt/Comfort?

Yeah, it's Nikprice Hurt/Comfort.

[buckybabesonly]

Mockingbird

Summary: Bucky tells you he doesn’t need you, except he can’t live without you.

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst

Warnings: I’m not a medical expert, mentions of character injury, Bucky self-wallowing

Word count: 2.8k

Knowing that Bucky was constantly amid danger was the bane of your existence. You could plead him to be careful, always remind him to take care of himself, but you knew your words could do little to protect him from harm.

He was a soldier first and would always do the right thing on the field, no matter how dangerous. He would attack those against him and protect those beside him, even if it meant that his safety was on the line.

It was one of the sources of your arguments, and you hated it.

In the beginning, you thought you would be able to take it. After all, he had been doing this long before he met you. When you first got together, he had made sure you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Your love for Bucky had been stronger than anything, and you knew you had to at least try, no matter how unconventional the relationship.

So, over a year later, even though you couldn’t have frequent dates like a ‘normal’ couple, and sometimes Bucky crawled into your bed looking bruised and battered, and you had found yourself in the crosshairs of Bucky’s enemies one too many times, you thought you had finally found happiness.

Bucky worried about you too. Being his girlfriend meant that he had a weakness to be exploited, and the fear grew over time after the first attack on your life just four months into your relationship. It had been a close call, but after that incident you moved into the Tower which had much safer security measures than your downtown apartment. It was probably more convenient to live literally where you worked, anyway.

The unexpected turning point, however, was seeing Bucky being wheeled into the medical wing on a gurney, unconscious with blood painting every exposed inch of his face. You were paralysed with fear, unable to even speak as you were ushered out of the room, dressed in your scrubs but far too incapable of being the one to tend to him.

He had made a full recovery, but this did little to ease your anxiety. A week after he’d been discharged, your fights began again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said tersely, doing little to hide his frustration as you paced your room.

“And we’re having it again,” you said through gritted teeth. “Bucky, do you know how scared I was when I saw you? I literally couldn’t move – Steve had to basically carry me out of there. That’s never happened to me before. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think – I froze.”

Bucky’s face softened, knowing how terrified you were.

“That can’t happen again,” you continued, anger bubbling in your voice.

“What do you mean?” He dragged a hand across his face, looking exhausted.

“You almost died, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “They’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Stop it!” You exclaimed loudly, turning on him, livid. “I know you always joke about things like that, but it’s not funny.”

“What do you want me to do?” It was a genuine question, and you were hyperaware of how tired Bucky looked in this moment. You felt guilty for adding to his existing stress, but you weren’t sure how you were going to cope anymore.

“Can you just – I don’t know, take a break?” You knew the words coming out of your mouth were silly, but you just wanted Bucky to stop. Stop getting hurt, stop getting injured, stop risking his life and risk taking himself away from you permanently.

“This is all I know,” Bucky said firmly. “You know that this is what I have to do.”

“Do you? Do you have to do it?” You challenged. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you knew you were being unfair but your stubbornness meant you had to stick to your guns.

“What do you expect? You want me to take a part-time job in a grocery store, instead?”

You didn’t take kindly to his snarky tone, bristling.

“I’m expecting you to take this relationship seriously.”

“What part of me doing my job means I don’t take this relationship seriously?” He shot back, looking irate.

“You’re supposed to take my needs into consideration, too. Nowadays, every time you leave, I think it might be the last time I see you.” Your voice cracked on the final word, and Bucky could see you crumbling as your eyes stung.

He quickly approached you, pulling you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest. He was the only person you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, and he had seen you cry more often than he’d like to.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips into your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, knowing he didn’t quite understand the extent of your fear, try as he may.

The argument ended with kisses melting into your skin and reassuring words in your ear, and you allowed him to comfort you, though you knew it was only temporary.

Anger was blinding Bucky’s better judgement.

It was Sam’s turn to be wheeled into the medical wing, but this time, it didn’t look like he would be as lucky. He was still human, after all, and it looked like HYDRA had managed to do a number on the Falcon.

Sam had to undergo emergency surgery as Bucky stalked up and down the waiting room. He was muttering under his breath, Sam’s blood still slick on his hands.

You rushed to the medical wing as soon as you heard, knowing that Sam was in the safe hands of your colleagues and that your boyfriend needed you. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you burst through the doors, panic written on your face.

Bucky was torturing himself mentally. Replaying the events a couple of hours ago over and over in his head, watching as Sam crashed onto the concrete ground, wings smashed into smithereens and his body unresponsive, as the assailants got away. They hadn’t been outnumbered, but were taken by surprise at HYDRA’s unusually advanced tech. They had equipment that Bucky and Sam had not been prepared for and, unfortunately, struggled to combat.

Bucky had managed to get out unscathed bar a few scratches and bruises, but Sam was in much worse shape. Perhaps the worst Bucky had ever seen him.

He hated himself.

They were partners, and he had failed him.

“Bucky, are you alright?” You had been repeating that same question over and over again, but Bucky barely seemed to hear you. “I’ve looked at the team’s initial assessment - Sam should be okay.”

Okay? How could anything be fucking okay when HYDRA was still a threat to Bucky, to you, to everyone that he cared about? He was seething with anger, feeling hopelessness and rage consume him.

“I need to get out of here,” he grunted finally, shrugging you off and walking towards the doors. You recognised this response - he was shutting down, shutting you out, wanting to internalise his rage.

You gaped at him, pulling on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Can you please talk to me?” You knew what had happened had shaken him up, and you were determined not to let him wallow by himself.

“I know where their nest is,” Bucky spat, speaking to himself more than to you. “I can get them.”

You stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you serious? You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“Sam got hurt because we were too fucking scared to go straight for the target,” Bucky practically snarled. “We thought we could play a strategy, work bottom up. But fuck that, they almost killed us out there, and I’m fucking done.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said harshly, knowing that Bucky wasn’t thinking straight. “You’re going to go in there, guns blazing and get outnumbered and beat? Again?”

“I can get the backup,” Bucky grunted.

“You’re putting yourself and everyone else’s lives in danger,” you said sternly. “Stop it and use your brain for one second, James.” You were secretly terrified, knowing that nothing could stop Bucky once he had his mind set on something. What would you do if he went in there alone and unprepared? What would you do if he got injured like Sam?

Bucky glared at you, and you almost recoiled at the sight, but stood your ground. “You know I’m right. You are being stupid and reckless.” You kept your voice steady, staring him down.

He marched up to you, pointing to the room where Sam was currently being operated in. You flinched at how furiously his boots pounded against the ground.

“Sam could die because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, exasperated. “You need a plan of attack. I know you’re angry right now, but you need to be calm.”

You watched as he turned away from you and suddenly lashed out, punching a sizeable dent in the wall, making you jump.

“You don’t know shit.”

You grimaced, hating the way he was speaking to you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, a small scowl on your lips. “I’m scared, Bucky. I won’t have you going out there, especially not in this state of mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing knowing full well where they are,” Bucky said, jaw clenching. He was feeling so frustrated and didn’t know why you couldn’t seem to understand.

“I know you’re angry,” you repeated, making Bucky’s jaw tick, “but you’re thinking blindly, and you need me to make you see sense.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” he said sharply.

His back was still turned to you, but you could see how his shoulders immediately sagged out of their defensive position once the words left his mouth. You audibly gasped, taking a step back and swallowing hard. Your lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

The constricting in your heart was awfully painful as you absorbed his words, ringing loud and clear.

I don’t need you.

His words made one of your biggest insecurities become something fully tangible. The deep-rooted belief that, at the end of the day, Bucky didn't really have any use for someone like you.

Cursing, he turned back round to look at you properly, his face full of guilt at your crestfallen expression.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything at first, inhaling shakily. Trying to catch your breath.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, unable to hide the tears in your eyes. He took a step forward but you walked backwards again, rapidly until your back thudded against the doors.

"I shouldn't have said that -" he began, hating the way he could see the way your nails were digging hard into your fleshy palms, the way you did whenever you felt upset. Your mouth was trembling and he knew you were trying so hard not to cry

“I’m going to go,” you said quietly, turning to make your hasty exit and ignoring his pleas for you to stay.

You said quietly in your room, mulling to yourself carefully about what had happened. You had locked yourself away as soon as you had assurance from your fellow doctors that Sam’s surgery had been a success.

Bucky’s words swam in your mind. You knew they were borne from anger, but they had to have some truth in it.

He didn’t need you, not really. What could you give him that someone else couldn’t? What’s more, you were just an ordinary human. Weak, expendable.

You felt a cold chill creep through your chest as you continued to let the thoughts swirl.

You didn’t want to make the mistake of believing that you were more important to him than you actually were.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sat on the ground at the foot of your bed. You hugged them tight as if they could provide you some comfort, letting your tears soak into the fabric of your jeans.

Bucky never had a bad word to say against you. He was always the first person to battle away your self-doubts, your self-loathing, your insecurities. You wondered if he had always secretly believed that he didn't truly need you.

It was insane how much words could hurt.

A gentle tapping at your door made you jump, and you knew instantly it was him. His voice followed shortly after, a gentle plead.

“Can you open the door?”

His voice was apologetic, and it just made you want to cry harder. You heard him sigh when you didn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean it. I was just being a jerk.”

You forced yourself to stand up and padded over to the door, knowing that he could hear your movements. You took a deep breath and opened it, met by the sight of his handsome, guilt-ridden face.

“It’s okay,” you said curtly, shrugging. “You said what you said. And I think, to some extent, you meant it.”

He scanned your tear streaked face, knowing how hard you were trying to keep your expression cool and face emotionless.

Bucky’s face became anguished, frowning and shaking his head vehemently. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his, though yours remained limp in his large palms.

“I didn’t,” he said firmly. “Of course I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t just take his words back and pretend they never happened, and he despised that he had hurt you.

His emotions were complex, his anger raw and all-consuming. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lashed out at your mere suggestion of reigning them in. He didn’t need to be placated – or so he thought – he just wanted to ride out that anger and hurt those people who posed a threat to everyone he cared about.

How could he make you think that he didn’t need you? Of course he needed you – you were his motivation for everything in life. You were his reason that he wanted to be better.

He should have listened to you when you tried to reason with him. He lost control of his feelings, and he was ashamed.

Bucky hugged you suddenly, circling his arms around you. He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes as you stood with your arms by your sides, unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed again, his words like silk in your ear. “Today has been kind of a shitty day. With HYDRA showing their faces again, and Sam getting hurt, and knowing that you could be in danger…it made me feel like I had to get out there and shut down any possibility of something happening to you. And I felt that I needed to do that alone, to be the one to eliminate the threat.”

You bit down on your lower lip, tears welling in your eyes again. You could feel the love radiating from Bucky as he held you, and it helped soothe the ache in your heart.

“When you tried to calm me down, I know you meant well, doll, I’m so sorry. But there was a voice in my head telling me that I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and when you told me not to do anything, I snapped.” His confession was wrought with honesty, and you softened your stance, raising your arms up to wrap around him, too.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed now.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him. “I know you just want to protect me.”

“Believe me,” he said sternly, eyes locked with yours, “that I need you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “I may be a fucking super soldier with a dumb metal arm and fight off bad guys, but I need you to remind me that I’m much more than just that.” He studied your face long and hard, making sure that you really understood him. Finally, he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Forgive me?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, unable to concentrate now as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer against his body, his solid chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. I might need a little more convincing,” you muttered, pulling him into your room and closing the door behind him.

The door stayed shut for the rest of the evening.

[alyswritings]

Shot

Request: could you do a jj x sister!reader (16-17)where she is somehow shot and could u maybe make it rlly angsty?

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: Y/N gets shot.

Warnings: gunshot wound, gun, rafe

a/n: thank you for the request! sorry it took forever to write! hope y'all enjoy!!

(gif not mine)

The pogues were enjoying celebrating the return of Sarah and John B, drinking and smoking in the hot tub. Pope and Kie just went off on the boat, leaving the other four at the chateau. After hearing noise, they quickly put out the fire and hid in a tree, the boys helping Sarah up due to her gunshot wound.

They watch Rafe and Barry raid the place and Rafe start to freak out. Rafe swings his arms around, firing his gun, the group of friends flinching. Y/N quietly whimpers, clamping her hand over her mouth when she feels a white hot pain in her abdomen. She keeps her hand pressed over her mouth and covers her nose a bit to try to not make a noise.

She looks around, not seeing her friends or brother injured. She lets out a muffled shaky breath, letting her forehead fall against the tree branch. She doesn't notice when Rafe and Barry leave or when her friends start to climb down the tree.

"Y/N? Hey." JJ hisses, gently slapping her on the leg. "Dude, let's go."

"I can't." Y/N whispers, sniffling.

"What the fuck do you mean?" JJ asks.

Y/N lets out a small sob and sits up, looking down at her abdomen. JJ looks down, finally noticing the blood and bullet hole.

"Fuck!" He exclaims, feeling fear and rage both consume him. "John B. Hey! She got shot, man."

"What?!" Both Sarah and John B respond.

"She got shot. Help me get her down." JJ says.

John B gets in the tree a bit, carefully getting Y/N.

"Okay. Okay, here we go." John B coos, putting Y/N on the ground, her back resting against the tree. Y/N whines in pain as her brother crouches next to her.

"Okay. All right. Hey. You're gonna be all right, okay? You're gonna be just fine." JJ assures.

"No, I'm not." She whines.

"Yes, you are." JJ argues, giving her a stern look. He softens at the terrified look in her eyes. "I gotta keep pressure on it. Sarah give me the shirt." Sarah is frozen in shock and fear. "Sarah!" He snaps.

"Wha-- ye-yeah. Sorry." Sarah quickly slips the shirt off and gives it to JJ.

"It's gonna sting, but you'll be fine. It's gonna help you." JJ says, pressing the shirt to Y/N's wound making her cry out in pain. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." He whispers. "JB, call the ambulance."

"You wanna call the hospital?" John B questions.

"Yes!" JJ yells.

"What are you gonna tell them?" John B asks.

"That somebody shot her, what the fuck do you think I'm gonna tell them?!" JJ bellows.

"Don't fight." Y/N whimpers, hating when anybody fights.

"Sorry." JJ mutters. "Just call the fucking ambulance. Disguise your voice if you're that fucking worried." JJ sneers at his best friend.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it." John B rushes inside for a phone.

"Okay. Hey, hey." JJ cups Y/N's face with one hand when her head starts to fall. "Hey. Just look at me, okay? Keep your eyes on me."

"I'm tired." She whispers.

"I know. I know, kiddo, but you gotta stay awake for me, okay?" JJ tells her. "I need you to stay awake." Y/N groans.

"The ambulance are on their way." John B informs, rushing out.

While trying to keep Y/N awake, the ambulance soon get there. It's all a blur for JJ as he's yanked away from his little sister while she's tended to and put on a gurney. JJ grabs onto her hand the first chance he gets, walking with them to the ambulance.

"Are you family?" The medic asks, stopping JJ from getting into the back of the truck.

"I'm her brother." JJ states.

"All right." The medic lets him get in, JJ not looking away from his sister.

"We'll meet you there!" John B calls out, hugging his crying wife.

"Okay. Hey, kid, you gotta stay awake, all right?" JJ tells his sister, gently squeezing her hand. "Just stay awake. We got a lot of shit to do. You're not leaving us yet."

The medics work on her, using terms JJ doesn't really understand, the boy only trying to help keep his sister awake. He flinches at the loud beeping.

"She's flatlining." A medic says.

"What?" JJ's heart drops.

The medics go into medical talk, ignoring JJ's questions.

"What are you doing?! Help her! Aren't you guys supposed to be doing your fucking jobs!" JJ shouts.

"Sir, you need to calm down." A medic tells him.

"Calm--" JJ's jaw clenches and he punches the wall.

"Hey! Calm down!" One of the medics yell at him. JJ's jaw tightly wounds, the blonde sure he could break his teeth. He watches them work on Y/N, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

"We got a pulse!" A medic yells out, JJ letting out a small breath. He presses his hand onto his chest, feeling his eyes water, trying to push any of the tears back.

- - -

JJ sits next to the hospital bed, his leg still rapidly bouncing and he doesn't tear his eyes away from his sister. He hasn't left her side for any longer than he needed to or was allowed to, refusing to leave her alone. Not only because of the gunshot wound, but he knows hospitals freak her out and he doesn't want her waking up in one alone.

JJ sits up a little when Y/N moves around, her eyes slowly opening. She looks around, her eyes widening a little at the place she doesn't like.

"Hey. Hey, hey." JJ calls, grabbing her arm. "You're okay. You're safe."

"What happened?" Y/N asks, relaxing a little with her brother right there.

"You got shot." JJ softly reminds. His jaw clenches a little as he plans Rafe Cameron's murder in his head.

"Shot?!" Y/N quickly sits up, crying out in pain, her hand flying to her stomach.

"Hey, yo. Yo, sit back. Relax." JJ urges, gently pushing her back down.

"Mm. We were having such a fun time right now. That fucking bitch." Y/N complains.

"Yeah, well, I hate him for a few more reasons than just crashing the party." JJ mutters, his hands balling into fists.

"I'm alive, though." Y/N says. "Breathing, talking... annoying you for many more years." She grins.

JJ lightly rolls his eyes, but then leans down and kisses her on the forehead.

"You ever get shot again, I'm gonna murder your ass." JJ threatens.

"Love you, too." Y/N smiles.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @myissuesworld @ironmaiden1313

[sw-33-ts-stuff]

Hey! I really love your writings!

Can I request a Wednesday X reader where r has telepathy powers and Wednesday develops feeling for r and r reads her mind and asks her "do u wanna tell me something" butttt heres a little plot twist that Wednesday doesn't know what powers r has and weems didnt disclose it too.

U can make it angst or fluff or anything lol would love to read this idea.

A/N: feel like this is ass but I tried my best 😅😭

Your POV

Your head began to pound as the onslaught of voices filled your head. You desperately rubbed your temples hoping to ease some of the tension.

The amount of thoughts flooding your mind always a nuisance but even more so when you'd hear just how vapid and shallow most of them were.

Most of the guys just thinking about getting into the girls pants and most of the girls either caring far too much about looks or popularity. There were some minds you did take comfort in.

Eugene, for example, was currently worrying over hive 309. He feared that he'd miss the right moment to harvest their honey. He was also worried that he was showing too much favoritism and making the other hives jealous.

There was Enid, who while sometimes ditzy still held a great amount of optimism and purity that you couldn't quite find in anyone else.

Which was the complete opposite of her roommate, one Miss Wednesday Addams. You remembered the first time the goth had set foot here in Nevermore. Much like everyone else you were enamored by her looks, fearful of her history and excited at the thought of her bringing a change to your school. She was very much in a class of her own. Her thoughts were very much dark but you couldn't deny the truth they held. You admired her outlook on life, her intelligence and her whit, her thoughts almost always mirrored her words. Not quite an open book but not someone who wears a mask.

Said girl sat next to you, voice low as she whispered to you. "I have more clues towards our investigation."

The feeling of her lips grazing your ear sending a chill down your spine. You nodded quietly, eyes shifting towards Xavier's as his thoughts began to shift from admiration to jealousy. It was no secret he harbored feelings for Wednesday even the girl herself knew of them but she wasn't focused on relationships, she was focused on saving the school from a monster.

Perhaps she chose you because you didn't dismiss her when she'd said she had seen Rowan mauled by a monster. Or because you never seemed to push her past her own comfort zone. You had pledged your allegiance to her one night in the woods. She had saved you from dying so you felt you owed her. She had patched up some small wounds and even taught you some self defense.

"I refuse to have an incompetent partner."

She, as well as most of the school knew nothing of your powers and the fact that she saw you as an asset without it made you feel...special. She trusted you as her partner and you would

do anything to keep it that way. You were both currently in the coroners office looking for more evidence as you caught Wednesday staring at you.

"Is something wrong?" The goth blinked once before turning back to the task at hand. Your eyebrow furrowed as you focused on the girls mind.

....you're being ridiculous.

You shook your head before getting the body prepped, your eyes catching something the police failed to report.

"Wednesday look he's missing his left foot." The shorter girl stepped closer her shoulder brushing you as she did so. Her eyebrows raising slightly as Thing began tapping, catching both of your attention.

Wednesday shoved you on a gurney before climbing on top of you Thing closing you both in as he clambered his way into an empty skeleton.

The smaller girl pressed to you in the tight space made you nervous, your breathing growing heavy as you heard voices from the outside. She looked to you making a show to breathe quietly through her nose. You tried to do the same but your chest was heaving, "relax" she mouthed. You nodded trying to listen, her thoughts were imitating her words but the sudden addition of more people coming into the room increased your panic.Wednesday gritted her teeth before pulling you closer her dark eyes boring into yours.

You felt your breathing grow calmer the longer you stared. You tried to focus on the details of her face as her eyes never left yours.

She has freckles and long eyelashes.

Your eyes flicked down to her lips before they go back to her eyes. You leaned a bit closer making her eyes widen but she remained still.

A knock echoing through the crawl space as Thing opened the door indicating the three of you should leave while still undetected.

You both remained quiet as you went back to the school and to your dorms. A quick goodnight falling from your lips as you couldn't meet the smaller girls eyes.

For a few days following, Wednesday had avoided you, not like the plague as she'd probably enjoyed it but more so like rainbows or puppies.

You were currently eating in the library alone as you sensed a dark presence enter. You tried to slide further down your seat to seem smaller as you'd noticed the raven looking for something in particular.

I wonder if Y/N- Enough.

You watched her seethe and grit her teeth as she continued to scan the isles.

You need to get yourself in order. You don't need y/n they're just a distraction.

She'd repeat the mantra before she'd be distracted by something that would make her think of you. You found yourself pushing yourself away from her mind and running to your dorm.

Thing had tapped Wednesdays shoulder pointing in your direction. He had signed something that made the girl glare at him.

"I do not like Y/n." She spoke through gritted teeth. "And I don't need help."

The appendage fell back exasperated as Wednesday tried to keep herself focused. Once your face popped back into her mind she'd grow frustrated.

A sharp realization hitting her like a bolt of lightning.

The goth threw down her book and stormed her way to your dorm.

A thud had interrupted what you were doing hands shaking as you'd realize Wednesday Addams had stormed into your room.

"What are you?" The harsh tone and fury clear in the ravens eyes as you stared back confused.

"I never asked your power, yet somehow you always conveniently know when I require your assistance," she began as you felt yourself grow more nervous. "You always know when I need a tool, book, or item without my asking and-"

For some godforsaken reason you fester my thoughts.

"You seem to know how others are feeling without-" your hand shot out a single black dahlia. Wednesday felt herself stop short as she stared.

"Your favorite." You spoke softly as you stood up moving closer to her. "Wednesday I -"

You had to pause and clear your throat as you were unable to decipher the emotions swirling in her black irises.

"I like you. A lot. Your extremely intelligent, and while some may see it as arrogance I admire your confidence and bravery. You don't treat me as an outsider and make me feel important."

You took a deep breath as the girl still had yet to move, her thoughts around you for once completely silent.

"I catch myself thinking about you all the time and when you're not around it feels wrong. I know you're not big on romance but I-"

The smaller girl cut you off hand lifting as she placed a palm on your cheek. You felt your shoulders sag in relief that she didn't slap you.

"Emotions are for the weak but if I were to pick a spouse you wouldn't be the worst choice."

You felt a grin make its way to your face as her thumb began stroking your skin. You gulped as it hit you.

"Uh Wednesday I-" The shorter girl looked at you, the usual cold glare a soft gaze as she waited to hear what you had to say.

"I have telepathy." Her hand dropped from your face as her eyes widened.

For the first time in her life Wednesdays cheeks grew warm and her usual pale complexion had a tint of pink to it.

Shit.

Taglist: @alexkolax

[strawbxttries]

so in seventh grade i used to listen to a lot of my chem songs but never looked too closely into the lyrics or the band itself, so i used to just pick up stray lyrics with no contexts and made up my own interpretations. and so i’ve decided why not, let’s write them down for tumblr to see. I’ve never checked the Genius pages of these songs, so I’m not sure how accurate I was with these

DISENCHANTED

“we watched our lives on the screen; i hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene” i interpreted it as the narrator commited suicide, hating their life in the end, but they enjoyed their childhood.

“About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay” I thought it was a critique of America’s shitty healthcare system

I’M NOT OKAY (I PROMISE)

“You sing the words, but don’t know what it means” in seventh grade, I was super insecure about being called a poser (i totally was), and spent hours tossing and turning over these lyrics because I thought gerard was getting mad about people who didn’t relate to these emotional songs singing along, because they didn’t really understand the meaning behind the song so they’re not allowed

TEENAGERS

“But if you’re troubled and hurt; what you got under your shirt will make them pay for the things that they did” I think I got this one right? I’m not sure—I haven’t checked the Genius page, but I think it’s referring to a gun, and killing all the bullies as revenge

BLOOD

“Well they encourage your complete cooperation; send you roses when they think you need to smile” I thought it was a bit of a metaphor about the military, or the government, who force soldiers to suck it up for their nation.

“So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff; Give them all that they can drink, and it will never be enough” thought it was about how these governments are so hungry for war that they’re blind to all the bloodshed and lives lost that had happened because of it.

“A celebrated man amongst the gurneys; they can fix me proper with a bit of luck” soldiers are celebrated men for their service, but because he’s dead, he’s celebrated amongst the gurneys.

THANK YOU FOR THE VENOM

“I wouldn’t front the scene if you paid me; I’m just the way that the doctors made me” I thought this was about how he thinks that the scene is a bit fake and superficial, and he does not want to be the face of it/in the spotlight. and the second line was about how he’s basically artificially crafted to be this way.

yea anyways those r js silly 12 y/o me’s thoughts! i might do songs from other bands l8er. if y’all have any of ur own interpretations, i wanna see em!!

[ivanaskye]

DUNE 1984 VS VILLENUEVE DUNE* OBJECTIVELY CORRECT OPINIONS

*almost entirely based on pt 1 since I haven't watched pt 2, but have experienced some osmosis

things that r better abt villenueve

haunted jerboa paul who also actually looks paul's age

sometimes people aren't white. astonishing

the music

jason momoa duncan idaho. it is very important to have a duncan be a guy that the viewers already like and might theoretically understand why you would resurrect thousands of times. lynch's duncan was completely unmemorable which is really not the way to go.

i think the actual worm design?

any vibes at all from chani

objectively the pacing ig on the other hand it's less Vibe so is it really better.

doesn't have whatever tf lynch made up about the Killing Word or whatever, what even was that?

things that are better about lynch 1984 dune

actual navigators who look incredibly weird

costuming in general

architecture in general

just like, the concept that something can have an aesthetic? that isn't just 'looks 1 degree removed from modern and is also So Serious' ???

patrick stewart gurney, exact right guy for that

tiny child alia who is having the best time ever killing everyone

YOU CAN HEAR? THE DIALOGUE? AT ALL????

[eliotheeangelis]

drivers meet on the grid before the 1967 race of champions, brands hatch

l-r: dan gurney, jack brabham, bruce mclaren, richie ginther, denny hulme, jochen rindt & graham hill

[helloliriels]

S H A T T E R E D

John felt the adrenaline racing through his veins. His pulse pounding in his ears. Every breath he took, too short. The fear gripping him that he might be too late to save Sherlock?

Then he saw him.

Two panes of glass away, in the mirrored classroom across from him. As a madman tempted Sherlock to die for curiosity alone ...

To John's horror, Sherlock unscrewed the cap ... and touched the pill to his lips!

Every nerve came alight as John raised his gun arm. Aiming the weapon, tried and true ...

He pulled the trigger ...

... and fired.

Watching in slow motion as the bullet shattered through the glass before him ... rushing onwards towards its intended target. John smiled. Knowing how this story would end.

But suddenly ...

... John was on the other side of Sherlock?

Staring at the glinting shards of a shattered mirror ... as the bullet instead ... pierced through belstaff, shirt and scarf ...

A crimson red blossoming on Sherlock's torso ... as he fell backwards, unconscious, onto the carpet of Magnussen's office ... !

John fell to his knees.

... Dropping the offending weapon in horror.

Save Sherlock Holmes.

He was always meant ... to save Sherlock Holmes? Not kill him.

Not the man he loved.

"The man we both love."

John heard Mary's voice mocking, as he turned. She picked up the fallen gun ... and fired.

(continued below cut) ✂️

John jolted awake.

The steady dance of the green line ... the rythmic blip and beeps of Sherlock's heart monitor calmed his breathing. Slowed his own racing pulse.

He swallowed a deep breath. Gulping back the tears that threatened to break through the grunt that followed.

Then took a moment to collect himself ... Stealing guilty glances at Sherlock lying there, unconscious ... again.

His fault this time!

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to rub the nightmare from behind his sore eyes.

He had let Sherlock carry on with the fight he himself had picked with Mary!

He was angry.

But angry now ... with himself, more than her.

He knew the truth at last.

The vision of Mary shooting Sherlock.

Sherlock had given him that.

... And instead of arresting the murderess right then and there as he should have ... ? He had tried to understand her. To understand Sherlock's forgiveness ... to understand why they were here?

Until Sherlock collapsed again, requiring EMT's to carry him off.

This time there was no forgiveness.

Mycroft had met John and Mary as they entered the hospital. Slapping cuffs on her as John left to follow the disappearing gurney behind double doors.

He was never leaving Sherlock's side.

"You said ..." John hesitated ... glancing at Sherlock's sedated, softly breathing form ...

"You said ... 'at my next wedding' ...," John smiled, thinking, "there would be no murderers ...? and I'm ... I'm going to hold you to that, you know."

John nodded, brushing a hand along Sherlock's blanket and fixing it. Then he tilted his head as he took Sherlock's hand in his.

"We could have a little ... private affair ... ?

Perhaps Molly and Lestrade will act as witness?

I'd ask Mrs. H, naturally. Only ... I'm convinced she's murdered someone, somewhere?" he teased. His thumb brushing against Sherlock's fingers.

Then he raised Sherlock's hand to his lips, and kissed it.

Falling silent.

The monitor beeped. The rhythm in sync with John's thoughts. Willing Sherlock to continue being here, being present, being alive ... for him.

"Shame."

John turned to see a ghost of a smile cross Sherlock's lips.

"She'd make a great witness."

Join felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth ... tightening in his chest, as his heart thumped in relief ... heaving almost incoherent oaths of gratitude between tears.

The next move was instinctual. John's arms were around Sherlock even as they each fitted their faces so close they could hardly breathe.

Then he took off his jacket and slipped into the hospital bed. Holding each other until they both fell asleep.

""

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: broken mirror

[moonstruckme]

hiii I'm just here resubmitting my request<3 so maybe r was in a fire (a small or large one, u decide), james was called and when he finds out it was her he gets sooo worried and she goes to the hospital or something? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: fire, paramedics/ambulance, symptoms of smoke inhalation

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

James starts to stand you up when the ambulance turns onto your block. 

“Jamie, don’t bother them.” You feel a cough building in your chest, but you repress it. “I’m f—fine.” It escapes on the last syllable, and you can barely look at your boyfriend as he raises his eyebrows at you, incredulous.

“Humor me,” he says simply. 

You let him pull you up this time, and he presses a kiss into your hair even though you smell like pollution. James has stripped out of his bulky jacket, but the heavy pants still hang from suspenders wrapped around his black t-shirt. The fabric swishes against your leg as you make your way over to the ambulance. 

“We need oxygen,” he says without prelude, though not unkindly, nodding at the paramedic that gets out first in greeting. 

As if to punctuate this, your throat pinches warningly, and you let out a couple of meager coughs. James’ arm contracts around your waist. 

The paramedic seems to trust his authority, nodding for her partner to get something ready in the back while she walks over to you. 

“Look here please,” she says. 

You obey, flinching slightly when she points a pen light in your eyes. James’ hand migrates up to your shoulder, rubbing lightly. 

“Any dizziness?” 

“No,” you say, coughing a bit. 

She clicks her light off. “Nausea or vomiting?” 

“No.” 

“Headache?” 

“No.” 

James cuts a look your way. “Sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“I did have a headache,” you amend, “but it went away.” 

“Chest pain?” 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Shortness of breath?” 

“I don’t…” You look to James, then feel stupid. It’s not like he knows. “I don’t think so?” 

“Coughing?” 

“Yes,” James says emphatically. 

The paramedic gives him a funny look, then asks you, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. A little cough works its way out of your lungs as if to prove it. 

James looks a bit chastised. He rubs your back, touch both firm and comforting. 

She gives you both a smile. “Come sit back here, please.” 

You follow her into the back of the ambulance, perching awkwardly on the gurney in the middle.

“It seems like you have relatively mild symptoms of smoke inhalation,” she tells you. Her partner passes her a mask, and she holds it over your face for a few seconds before letting you do it yourself. Her fingers press to your wrist. “Your eyes are irritated, but it’s a good sign that your headache went away already. There’s probably not much more we can do other than give you oxygen. Your other symptoms should ease on their own.” 

You nod your understanding, relieved even if you’d been the one saying you didn’t need any help. With James, it’s typically best if only one of you shows your worry at a time. And he’s plenty worried enough for both of you right now. 

You glance over at him, standing outside with his arms crossed. It’s doing crazy things to his biceps, and you think that usually he’d grin if he caught you checking him out like this but now he looks like he might start tapping his foot impatiently. You feel guilty for getting him in such a tizzy. 

The paramedic finishes with your pulse and follows your gaze. “That your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Your breath fogs the mask. “Mhm.” 

“He seems fairly rattled,” she notes. “I supposed it’s probably not typical to get called to a fire at your girlfriend’s place, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

You’d already been sitting out on the lawn when James’ crew had arrived, the fire already put out and your front door left open. Smoke rolled out of it in one thick, relentless wave. You still have no idea how a fire that couldn’t have been burning more than fifteen minutes had created so much. You suppose James could tell you if you asked him later. 

The others had run inside, but James had gone straight to you. His chief wanted to confirm with you that there was no one else in the home (there wasn’t) and that you’d gotten out quickly (you didn’t have a great answer for that one). Like pulling teeth, it came out that you’d fallen asleep with dinner in the oven, and it was only by coincidence that someone had called your phone and the ringing woke you up. You’d turned off the oven and dumped cupfuls of water on your flaming dinner until it went out, but the smoke had spread throughout your home and your neighbor had already called emergency services. 

This led to you having to admit you hadn’t replaced the batteries in your smoke detector, which had led to a fervent lecture from your boyfriend that you doubt you’ve heard the end of. It was only the arrival of the ambulance that had distracted him. 

The paramedic sitting next to you jerks her chin toward James. That’s all it takes to get his attention, since he’s watching you like you’re going to float away if he doesn’t keep a close eye on things. 

“You can come up here,” she tells him. 

James clambers up quickly, giving her a terse smile at half his usual wattage as she moves to let him take her place next to you. 

“Hey, angel.” He takes the mask from you, holding it to your face himself. His other hand slides down the inside of your forearm and interlocks its fingers with yours. “Is she okay?” he asks the paramedic you’d spoken to. 

“Her symptoms are minor,” she assures him. “I wanna keep her on oxygen for ten minutes or so before checking her levels, but she’ll be fine.” 

James nods in thanks, but his sigh ghosts over the shell of your ear when he leans his brow against the side of your head. The paramedics conveniently find other things to do, and you’re grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly. 

“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he says, matching your tone, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh a little. It provokes your lungs, and a cough follows. 

James winces. Kisses your cheek softly. 

“Yeah,” you try again. “That sounds good, thank you.” 

“The next time you set foot in your place, I’m going with you and installing new smoke detectors.” 

Now you wince. “Fair enough.” 

“And I don’t think you should ever cook or nap again.” 

“That seems a bit far.” 

“I dunno, I think I’m being reasonable.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering this time. “I’d prefer to wrap you in some sort of fireproofed bubble wrap, but I think this is a compromise we can both live with, no?” 

You smile, and you can’t tell if your chest hurts because of your smokey lungs or the raw quality to James’ teasing, but it helps when he smiles back. 

“What if,” you say, “you cook, and I nap. Would that satisfy you?” 

He mulls this over for a second. “For now,” he decides. “I think I’d still like to work on fire-proofing some bubble wrap in the meantime, though.”

[project-sekai-facts]

VBS event teaser commentary

Sorry for not doing this last month. Again. Yeah I know I'm doing it just before the actual preview drops who even cares.

As per the norm, the teaser is just based on the jacket art so there's not a whole lot we can learn there. We know that cards are sometimes based on the song though, so maybe we can guess something there. Personally this gives me a retro nightclub sort of feel, and I'm kinda surprised they haven't done something like that with VBS yet, doubly so when you consider the Gekkou teaser had a very retro feel (I'm grasping at straws atp I've wanted this for two years lol).

Okay, so actual plot predictions time. I reckon this will be another POU or LUTF situation where the event focuses somewhat heavily on a side character. Ah, well, less so "I reckon" and more "Break Down the Wall foreshadows that this event will focus quite a bit on Arata and Souma". Based on bdtw, I think the event is going to focus on two things which heavily overlap with Toya's arc: Toya's feelings towards music, and getting Arata to rejoin the group.

The game has drawn parallels to the relationships between Akito & Toya and Arata & Souma since POU, with Toya outright quoting Kaito's statement from pou about their similarities in bdtw. Toya is able to relate to how Arata feels because their experiences with their partners are very similar. Akito and Souma are the ones who got Toya and Arata into the street music scene and shared their dreams with the other. Because of this similarity, Toya is able to put himself in Arata's shoes somewhat. I'm writing this very late so this is not clear what I'm getting at at all. Basically it's about partners. Toya is the best one to try and reason with Arata, and it's probably why this was his job given to him by Ken. R Sound Design says the song has a focus on relationships between the characters, so to say this will be a big part of the event is not a stretch at all.

(TL by pjsekai_eng)

And connecting to that: Toya (and Arata's) feelings about music. Toya's bdtw chapter also focused a lot on his feelings towards music, and how he'd grown to love it again thanks to Akito and VBS after his bad experiences with classical music as a child. Once again we're right back to the partners thing. Toya talks about his feelings towards music in woao as well, which also happens to be the event where Souma explains the story behind Gurney Flap's formation, and how he was able to get Arata to love music as much as he does. The key difference between Toya and Arata's stories though, is that Toya was able to move on from the past and his trauma. Toya seems to realise that Arata's past is affecting him in bdtw, and Taiga also pointed this out in lutf. While his relationship with his family is by no means mended, Toya was at least able to start healing with the help of his love of street music. On the other hand, Arata is very clearly still grieving the loss of Souma as his partner, and it's what's been holding him back this entire time. I could easily see Toya having a heart to heart with Arata in regards to their feelings towards music and their friends/partners. In a perfect world they do what they did in lutf where they explained a lot of the RADder backstory but for Gurney Flap this time, but I don't want to get attached to that idea. I think at the very least explaning what exactly happened to Souma could happen though.

Oh and on the off chance this ends up being An5, it'll be about her feelings towards Kohane. As in, her insecurities that have been showing up since Bout for Beside You about Kohane essentially becoming too good for her. Like with Toya this was heavily foreshadowed in her bdtw chapter and cards, as well as at the end of kiuan over a year ago. Combine An's grief over Nagi with her insecurities over Kohane and Kohane carrying Nagi's spirit in the sense of her singing, and you have an event story.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ buddie + "a romantic kiss". inspired by the pride & prejudice quote / this @userdiaz edit <3

read on AO3 (~900wd)

-

I cannot fix upon the hour.

Buck frowns at the tattoo scribed in a loop around the victim's upper arm. The script is beautiful. The words feel familiar.

The victim smiles up from the gurney, like he knows that look in Buck's eyes. There are tears in his own and he'd had to be strapped down to stop him trying to climb out of here on broken legs the first few times. His fiancee is in the other ambulance with Hen and Chim, speeding ahead of them with sirens blaring, and Buck thinks he could hardly bear to be stuck these few feet apart if the person he loved that much was that far from him. Not like this. They'd known each other since high school, he's gathered so far. They'd left, moved, had other relationships, he'd even served overseas for a while and they'd only just come back. Put their lives together. Got his act together, he'd said, and proposed. She still hasn't woken up. Buck wonders if the man knows.

“Pride and Prejudice,” the man explains, and then he closes his eyes and recites it, like a prayer to keep her heart beating. “I cannot fix upon the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words which laid the foundation.”

“I was in the middle,” Eddie finishes the quote, “before I knew I had begun.”

There's something about the way Eddie's looking at him, in that moment, that lodges in Buck's chest. Something that explains, maybe, why that quote – that whole sentiment - from a piece of media he's never in his life come anywhere close to consuming makes his heart ache so much. Because it's true, isn't it? Because he's known it for a long time.

“Eddie,” he says, as they're both sitting, exhausted and hopeful, with their elbows on their knees facing each other in the back of the empty ambulance. The fiancees have gone through the hospital doors. It's out of their hands now.

“Buck,” Eddie says back. And he lifts his head from prayer position, and he has that look in his eyes again, and his face is mere inches from Buck. Now that he thinks about it, Buck swears he's seen that face before. More times than he can count. Fondness, he used to think of it, but as his eyes trace over every crease of Eddie, every slightest fraction of tension that screams only to someone who knows him so well, that there's something he's dying to say -

Buck's never been more jealous of a novelist. Of a Capital-R-Romantic, who was born to put words to exactly this sort of feeling. These many feelings. Who could explain far better than he can that he understands all of a sudden, that what he'd felt when they met wasn't just insecurity. What he'd felt when they'd nearly blown up together, when they'd run down the street holding up Christopher together, when he'd tasted Eddie's blood and when they'd sat in the hospital afterwards... When they'd sat on his porch and talked about love, when they'd fought, when Eddie'd left and he'd missed so desperately the familiar shape and voice beside him... When he'd held his shoulder as his son, his heart, walked away and when he'd hugged him so fiercely his feet lifted off the ground when he heard he was coming back...

He's not even sure what he's thinking anymore, he's just overwhelmed by feeling. By realisation.

Someone knocks on the ambulance doors, and there's another realisation that the ambulance has stopped, the engine has turned off.

(And one more: that Eddie hasn't looked away until this moment either.)

“Grub's up!” Bobby announces.

“I-”

“Yep.”

For a moment, they fumble, like they've both forgotten how seatbelts work and that neither of them are actually wearing one. They manage to stand without falling over or bashing into each other and it's a miracle. They step out onto the familiar floor of the 118, and it feels like anything but.

Are they really going to let this go? To walk away from what this could be?

Again?

Buck takes a deep breath.

“Eddie, wait.”

Buck reaches out and grabs his wrist, and he's not sure why. Why tonight. Why here. But he's never been more sure in his life of what to do when Eddie turns back to him, into the pressure. He's never been more sure that he doesn't need to put words to it right now. That Eddie, in all his uncertainty, isn't ready to be the one to start things but that – maybe for the first time in his life - he is. And that starting things is very much the wrong word.

He's already in the middle.

Buck's lips lock against Eddie's like there's no other place they'd rather be. Eddie kisses back, chasing his lips like in this moment it's them and not oxygen that he needs. Heat, electricity, rush through Buck's body; the floodgates drop and he's awash in the feelings. Eddie's hand finds his shoulder, then his neck, then his cheek, and when they finally pull apart and need to breathe he leans into it like an anchor.

Eddie is breathless, smiling, fond. And so much more than fond.

“Buck,” he sighs, “I love you too.”