#comfort gen 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rose-of-gabriel · 5 months ago

Text

My Teammates, My Friends

Set at the end of s1 ep12: Basic Straining

Harold's revenge doesn't go the way he planned. Courtney reflects on what her team means to her.

Beginning of a series of Season 1 rewrites bc I still love Duncney and can't let things go.

It was the breeziest Courtney had ever felt going into a bonfire ceremony. Yes, they’d lost the challenge, and she was fully prepared to start strategizing again in the morning, but for right now everything just felt right. Duncan stood amongst their fellow Killer Bass members on the other side of the fire pit, meeting her gaze before giving a dramatic roll of his eyes at how much Chris was milking his time at the podium. Courtney ducked her head, a heat rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the burning embers of the fire.

Even when Bridgette and Geoff were called, leaving her in the usually precarious position of bottom two, she didn’t feel worried. For maybe the first time in this competition, her team actually felt like her friends. It was probably - definitely - sad to admit, but she’d never experienced that before. Every “team” she’d ever been a part of - debate team, model UN, student council - had all been so performative and impersonal for everyone involved. Courtney would call those people her friends but she knew it wasn’t the kind of friendship she read about in books or magazines; friends who made you feel at ease, who had your back unconditionally. Yes, she was aware that this was still a competition, but as long as the teams remained, there was a tentative, hopeful, nearly forgotten part of her that trusted the four people before her more than she had anyone else in a long, long time.

These thoughts wrenched to a halt when she realized Chris had cut himself off mid-monologue. She re-focused, expecting to see military personnel or aliens raining down on them since there wasn’t anything else she could think of that would make Chris surrender the spotlight. There was no surrender, though. The devious, snake-like expression curling across his features opened up a pit in Courtney’s stomach, and from the looks of her teammates she could tell they’d noticed the pause with equal trepidation.

“Now campers,” Chris said, setting the plate and final marshmallow atop the podium before reaching into the placket of his shirt, “we have an interesting development.” He produced a folded stack of paper and held it aloft. ��See... according to the ballots we received in the ballot box, every. single. person. voted Courtney off.”

The pit in her stomach imploded, leaving her sick and dizzy. She barely heard the reaction of her teammates over the rush of blood in her ears.

Pressure built behind her eyes as her gaze ricocheted across their faces, landing finally on Duncan, or where he would have been had the punk not already taken several imposing steps in Chris’ direction. “Dude, no fucking way! ”

Chris jumped backwards, raising the ballots high in one hand and throwing the other up in front of him. “ Hey! Hold it, hold it, hold it!”

Geoff and DJ both reached to grab Duncan’s shoulders, and while he did stop, his expression was murderous. Chris continued quickly. “All six ballots were for Courtney, making me and the producers more than a little curious as to why one of our fiercest competitors would vote herself off. So we went back and had a looksie at the confessional booth footage.”

Chris inclined his head to where Chef Hatchet was laboriously pushing an old dolly with an even older projection set up the slope toward the bonfire. While Courtney by no means had her barings back, she still noticed how Harold’s shoulders had hiked up to his ears and he had scooted as far from her on the log stool as he could. Suspicion stirred in her mind but she was too rattled to interrogate it.

“Lights please!” Chris called. The array of tiki torches and lanterns surrounding the fire pit suddenly faded to nothing, the only light now coming from the bonfire and the harsh, white light of the mobile projector. “Chef, if you would be so kind, roll tape!”

Chef arranged the projector so it displayed on one of the massive, flat rock faces that walled in the area. He pulled a VHS tape from the front pocket of his apron and opened a compartment on the side of the projector. Before he inserted the tape, though, Harold burst to his feet. “Wait!” he screamed, throwing his spindly body in front of the lens. “Wait, you don’t have to show it.”

“Oh, don’t we?” Chris grinned.

Courtney’s nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. “ Harold.” She growled, rising to her feet with her fists clenched. “ What did you do?”

Duncan was next to speak, cracking his knuckles. “You are dead, shrimpy.”

Unaffected by their outbursts, Chris continued coolly. “You’ve got a choice here, Harold. We can either play the tape or not, but somebody has to walk the dock of shame tonight.”

Everyone had put the pieces together by now; even Geoff’s usual half-grin was soured in a glare. Duncan started toward their condemned team member, but Courtney beat him to it. Harold shrieked and covered his face, but instead of clocking him Courtney grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. Though he had a good few inches of height on her, Courtney yanked him down with enough force that his knees buckled, putting them at eye-level.

Her voice simmered with intensity as she hissed his name. “You have exactly five minutes to get on that boat. Because if I watch what I think is on that tape and you’re still on this island, I promise that you are never. leaving it. Understand?”

“Yes.” He squeaked, eyes nervously flitting between her and the team.

The instant she released her grip he was gone, sprinting for all his worth back to the cabins. Courtney inhaled deeply through her nose, efforts to calm herself ruined by Chris chiding, “Easy, Courtney. Chef’s gonna escort him to make sure he doesn’t hide out anywhere and to make sure no one tries to deal out their own justice, vigilante style.” He chuckled. “Although that would be awesome. ”

For a second Courtney thinks she might actually punch Chris’ lights out, but the host is saved by Bridgette throwing her arms around her teammate. “Oh my gosh, Court! Those were like the worst two minutes of my life.”

Two minutes? Had all of that really just happened in two minutes. Courtney felt like she’d just stepped off a rollercoaster and her stomach was finally catching up with her. When Bridgette released her, she pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead and closed her eyes. There was sound and movement all around her but nothing concretely registered except for the rough, warm pressure of a hand sliding down her spine to rest at her lower back.

“You okay?” Duncan said into her ear, so quiet she wasn’t sure if anyone else heard.

His voice and his hand on her back were the anchors she needed to feel like she was on solid ground again. She dropped her hands from her face and her shoulders fell with them as she surveyed the teens around her. Bridgette was visibly the most affected, hazel eyes wide like Courtney would vanish if she blinked. Geoff and DJ wore similar looks of both sympathy for Courtney and anger for the situation, and Duncan…

Well, Courtney didn’t know what to make of the look he was giving her. It was somehow soft and warm yet still retained its fierceness from before. She wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of his gaze or the crash of adrenaline that made her shiver. “I’m good.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt.

“Man, that is one sick little dude.” DJ groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

Geoff added, “Yeah, Court, that was wickedly messed up. Sorry, brah.”

Courtney shifted her weight just a fraction to press more firmly into Duncan’s hand, forcing a steady exhale from her lungs. “I’m just glad he was dumb enough to make all of the ballots the same.”

“Seriously.” Duncan agreed, pulling her an inch closer.

She turned her head to look up at him, nerves settling enough to crack a smile. “You have any experience with voter fraud?”

“Pfffft, that’s weak shit.” He dismissed, though the corner of his mouth ticked upward.

The vice in her chest eased, and the airiness from before was returning. These were her friends , friends who were angry on her behalf and happy that she was still here. Friends that surrounded her with support but she knew would give her space if she asked for it. That was the last thing she wanted, though, threading her arm across Duncan's back.

“Anyone up for stealing some brownies from the mess hall while Chef’s distracted?” She asked.

Geoff whistled, “Heck yeah!” at the same time Duncan praised, “Atta girl.”

It was DJ who hesitated. “Sure you don’t wanna see the ginger twerp off, Court? I know I’ll be happy to see him go.”

Courtney hummed thoughtfully. “The look on his face would be pretty satisfying.” Her gaze flickered to Duncan’s with a mirrored grin. “If we’re quick we can do both.”

The expression on Duncan's face turned wolfish as he addressed the group. “You heard the lady.” He said and the five of them took off toward the mess hall, Courtney’s heart soaring with every step.

#total drama #duncney #tdi #td courtney #td duncan #td bridgette #td geoff #td dj #td gen 1 #fanfic #td reboot #fluff #hurt comfort #killer bass #cartoon network #netflix

25 notes · View notes

disappearinginq · 2 years ago

Text

First Sentences Game

Tagged by @dragonnan and @itsjustdg

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. Tagging 10 people up front: @buckky, @amandagaelic, @21forestglades, @altschmerzes, @vix-has-arrived, @lovelucigoosey, @authorangelita, @djclawson, @cuppachar, anddd.....anyone else who writes and wants to play?

So does this mean I do 20? Do I have 20? ::shrug:: Guess we’ll find out - and I’m not using the ones already published unless I run out of WIPs (which don’t have titles, just the idea that inspired them sooo...).

1. 9-1-1 - mistaken for related prompt

“What’s it like working with your dad?” It wasn’t the first time someone made the mistake. It was admittedly an easy one to make - while they didn’t look exactly alike, there was enough overlap for people to make the assumption just based off similar features. Buck’s hair was a little darker, which Hen liked to tease the reason for was only the lack of gray hairs - most of which Buck gave Bobby himself. Their eyes were a little different, Buck with his electric blue that almost everyone noticed first, and Bobby’s a darker hazel. They were almost the same height, the same build, but mostly though, it was how they interacted. Buck hadn’t referred to Bobby as ‘Pops’ in awhile, especially not in public, but there was a familial ease which Buck would tease and Bobby would tolerate. Most people assumed the firehouse was like the military - the Captain was treated with absolute authority, and a chain of command followed. They naturally assumed that the youngest of the group wouldn’t be so familiar with their boss unless they were related. It was an easy mistake. It’d been made many times, though usually by someone in passing where either one of them could easily pretend like they hadn’t heard it, or smile and shrug it off with a simple head shake. But Career Day in front of a bunch of fourth graders was like sitting in front of a CIA interrogation.

2. 9-1-1 Buck and animals prompt

"Hey...Cap?" Buck asked hesitantly. "I have sort of a weird question. How do you convince a bird to leave the nest?" Bobby frowned, trying not to smile at the dead seriousness of Buck's face. "Well...when it's time to leave, the birds know." "Okay, but what if they don't leave?" Buck pressed. "Is there a way to convince them?" Bobby opened his mouth to reply before he paused, considering. "Are we talking metaphors, or actual birds?" "One hundred percent real birds." "Well....nature runs off instinct for the most part. If a baby bird isn't leaving the nest, there's usually a reason. Maybe it's not actually ready, or it's hurt, or..." "Okay, but what if it's not a baby bird? What if it's an adult?" "I...Buck, what exactly are you trying to figure out?" Buck held out his hands, which were cupped loosely together. "I found this bird, and it won't leave." He lifted his left hand, which was on top, and sitting cupped in Buck's palm was, sure enough, a brown and white bird. Too big to be a sparrow, and Bobby didn't know too many subspecies to guess any further than that, but it didn't fly away as soon as Buck's hand was lifted as Bobby expected. Instead, it looked quite pleased with itself sitting there and it didn't budge. "See?" Buck prompted, lifting the bird higher.

3. Outer Banks - continuation of Limits

“Mr. Maybank,” the ER nurse greeted them, flinging back the privacy curtain. “We meet again.” “Doc,” JJ acknowledged, offering a flippant two-finger salute. The man sighed, flipping through the paperwork from the folder on the foot of JJ’s exam bed. “This time with a police escort, I see.” He nodded towards Shoupe. “Is he under arrest, sheriff?” “He’s in our custody,” Shoupe deflected. The nurse muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘figures’ before looking at JJ. He let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. What happened this time?”

4. Slow Horses

It’d been eight days. Eight days, and they hadn’t found him. Lamb could easily throw the blame on Cartwright. The man was always wandering off, pursuing his own leads and his own cases, as if he were an MI-5 team of one. His instincts were solid, and if that little shit Spider and Taverner hadn’t purposely torpedoed his training exercise to cover up their own cock-ups, he’d have his golden ticket and golden legacy still in place. Compared to Lamb’s normal throwaways, Cartwright was almost competent. Lamb never felt like he had to keep a tight leash on the young man because of all the Slow Horses, Cartwright was the only one there because of someone else’s mess. It made Lamb complacent. Lazy, he cursed to himself on the fifth day. Lazy, and fucking stupid. Because he allowed himself to forget that River’s ambition and talent were soundly outdone by his absolute shit fuck awful luck.

5. Haunting of Hill House - steven is haunted as fuck prompt

Steven always hated hospitals. True, he couldn’t think of anyone who actually enjoyed sitting in the hard plastic chairs of waiting rooms, listening to the repetitive pages over the announcing system, waiting for the doctors to come and deliver bad news. He clenched the flimsy paper cup in his hands, debating if he needed a distraction badly enough to get another cup of tar-like coffee from the vending machine. Or maybe risk leaving the hospital for Dunkin Donuts. This was Massachusetts - there was a Dunkins at perfectly timed increments based on how long it took the average human being to drink a medium coffee. One was probably close enough to walk to, and guaranteed to be open. Luke liked the sweet ones - triple shot of coconut caramel macchiatto something-or-other with ungodly amounts of whipped cream. Luke mentioned once how terrible coffee was in rehab, thick and bitter that no amount of cream or sugar could fix. Probably the same as the hospital. Steven could rationalize leaving if he said it was for his brother.

6. So Help Me Todd - going into shock prompt

“But Mom, that’s not how it works, that makes it a misdemeanor not a felony,” Todd protested. “I know the law better than you, Todd, I think I would know -” “You know about upholding the law, not breaking it!” Allison tilted her wine glass towards her brother, eying the rest of the bottle. “He does have a point there. And that is his area of expertise.” “That’s irrelevant!” Margaret protested. “Don’t they say that lawyers make the best criminals?” Chuck pointed out. “Yes, thank you…” Margaret acknowledged, smiling before the implication sunk in. “I beg your pardon?” “Ha!” Todd cheered, holding his fist out to Chuck who didn’t reach across to bump it, but merely held it up just above the table before the doorbell rang. “You know what Chuck, we’ll get there. We just need to work on your enthusiasm, you got the spirit, you just need the attitude. We’ll work on it when I get back.”

7. So Help Me Todd (even though I technically might’ve pawned this off on @itsjustdg) It’s Not My Blood Prompt

“Oh my god, Mom! Are you okay? Are you - are you hurt, ohmygod, you are! Don’t move!” Todd pressed his hand down on the growing blood stain on his mother’s blazer, hard enough to make her yelp in surprise and pain, but he remembered lessons from Allison yelling at various movies and TV shows about ‘YOU PUT PRESSURE ON THE WOUND, WHAT IDIOT WROTE THIS?’ and he may not pay attention to a lot of things, but he does remember first aid, and the second part of it was calling for help. There was a crowd gathering around, multiple people with their phones but no one sounded like they were talking to 9-1-1. What was it Allison said? You had to tell people specifically to do things? “You!” he shouted at a woman who almost dropped her phone in surprise. “Call 9-1-1! Tell them we have a sixty year old woman, abdominal injury…tell them we’re in front of the Portland Courthouse and don’t hang up on them!” The woman turned paler than a ghost, and for a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him. Or pass out too. But then she seemed to gather her wits, and nodded once, before dialing on her phone. He only paid attention long enough to know she’d reached dispatch, before turning back to Margaret, who was still looking dazed. “You’re gonna be fine, Mom, don’t worry - help is on the way,” he reassured her, keeping both hands on her wound. His hands were shaking from shock, but he tried to keep his focus on her. “Ow…my head,” Margaret groaned, moving her arm to touch the back of it where it’d collided on the granite stairs when he knocked her to the ground. “Sorry about that,” he apologized quickly. “But you’re going to be fine. Okay? You’re going to be fine.” Margaret winced as she put one hand over his, and the other still behind her head. “Todd, I’m fine, it’s just a bump…” Todd tried not to laugh at that. It wasn’t funny. It would be horrifying if he suddenly giggled at his mom right now. “No, I think it’s a little more than a bump, Mom. Try not to move.” That made Margaret frown, and she shifted her hand, brushing against the sticky damp redness on her blouse,and then reaching up to his shirt and he could see the moment it registered just how bad this actually was, and he tried to soothe her before she could really panic. “Don’t worry - help is on the way, they already called.” “Todd…that’s not my blood.”

8. Yellowstone - season 3 fix it fic “You want a way out of this shit?” Jamie snapped. He pointed an accusing finger towards Beth. “Out of the fucking corner she backed us into?” Beth scoffed at that. “I can’t wait to hear this revolutionary plan.” “Gift it.” Beth almost choked on her drink, roughly inhaling whiskey half way up her nose. “If you think after the shit you’ve pulled, we’re going to gift -” Jamie shook his head. “No. Not to me. To him.” He pointed to Rainwater. “To the Broken Rock Confederation. It’s a fix for everything, but the only one here smart enough to know that - who actually has something worth losing if we don’t - is Kayce.” “You can’t possibly be-” “This is your doing, isn’t it, you sonofa-” John moved towards Rainwater, who didn’t flinch even as Jamie did, instead studying Jamie carefully, as if trying to guess where his loyalty truly lay, and what kind of scheme he had up his sleeve. Not that Jamie could blame him.

9. Yellowstone fix it fic “Jamie didn’t turn on you,” Kayce pointed out from his chair. “You made him your enemy.” “All I ever did for that ungrateful sonofabitch was feed him, clothe him, put a roof over his head…taught him everything I know,” John snarled, swiping a hand across his chin. “I sent him to law school for chrissakes. And how does he repay me?” Kayce leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he let his father rant. Experience said interrupting him just made him angrier. Best to let him ‘buck it out’ before he said anything to the contrary. After several minutes of railing against Jamie, John stopped mid pace, turning to look Kayce in the eye. “You’re awfully quiet.” Kayce shrugged without saying anything, waiting to see if John was finished, or just pausing. “Well?” “Jamie didn’t turn on you. Out of everyone, Jamie is the only one who ever did everything you asked - including give up his dreams, more than once - and it’s like it made you madder. This is why you ain’t broke a reliable horse once in your life - you can’t teach a horse through fear, because one day, they’ll find something they’re more scared of than you. Teach a horse they can trust you, and they will walk through fire for you, even when every other instinct is telling them to run the other way.” “Your brother isn’t a horse.” “No, but I figured you might understand the concept better if it was something you cared about.”

10. Yellowstone Kayce &Jamie fix it

“Why?” Jamie demanded. “If he didn’t want me, if he knew he was never going to love me - why? He could’ve just left me in a foster home, he could’ve just left me alone, but he didn’t. Is…is this a punishment? Is it some fucking mind game he’s been playing my whole life?”

“Jamie you know that’s not true -”

“DO I?” Jamie shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Do YOU? If he hated me so much, if he was afraid of what I might do, why wouldn’t he just let me finish the job with the rifle on the hill? Why not just let me end it? But no, no, he couldn’t fucking let me go. A-and then what? Put me in the fucking bunkhouse with the rest of the orphans? But I went - I went, and you know what, Kayse? That’s probably the happiest I have been in years. And he couldn’t even let that go - as soon as he needed me, he put me back in the district attorney’s office, the same goddamn office he purposely pushed me out of with the Rodeo Queen - and now he’s governor - for what? For what?”

Kayce couldn’t answer - his mind was still stuck on the words ‘finish the job with the rifle’. “Jamie…what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, what the fuck is he doing in an office he hates and doesn’t want, just so I can’t? I-is it power? He doesn’t want me to be higher up than him? What does he think I’m going to do? I’ve done everything he’s ever wanted me to, I made a fucking lynch mob go away when he was lying in a goddamn coma -”

“Fuck the job, Jamie - what did you mean about the rifle?”

11. Magnum PI

“You know,” Thomas said, casting his gaze upwards to the cloudless blue sky. “I lasted twelve years in the Navy, and I was jumped by pirates a whopping total of never.” He turned back to Higgins, not inches from his face. “But somehow, despite the odds, two for two with you. Next time you need a yacht moved, call someone else.”

“Shut up!” the man with a harpoon gun snarled, jabbing the pointed end of the spear gun at Magnum’s arm, drawing blood.

“You can’t honestly blame this on me.” Higgins bristled indignantly.

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas answered. “Yeah, I can. I was literally on a pirate hunting mission. In pirate infested waters. For more than six months. And not once were we boarded by pirates. Zero. Zilch. Never.”

12. Hudson & Rex aphasia prompt

“Okay, I need you to be patient with me, Charlie,” Dr. Gates said, smiling briefly. “I know these questions are gonna sound ridiculous, but humor me, yes?”

Charlie nodded, trying not to wince as the motion pulled on the stitches at the back of his head.

“Only nod or shake your head for the first few. Or, if that’s too much, thumbs up or thumbs down for yes and no. Yes?”

Grateful for the out, Charlie gave a quick thumbs up.

“Is your name Charlie Hudson?”

Thumbs up.

“Are you a police officer with SJPD?”

Thumbs up again.

“Are you at home right now?”

Charlie frowned at that, his opinion of the question plain as day across his face as he gave a thumbs down.

“I told you they were going to sound ridiculous,” Dr. Gates reminded. “Do you have a dog named Rex?”

13. Hudson & Rex Lab Rat prompt

It was Charlie, but somehow…not Charlie.

His hair was a little too long, but it didn’t cover the strangely circular burn on his temple, the angry red contrasting with his otherwise much too pale skin.Dark smudges under his eyes spoke of too little sleep, his normally bright blue eyes dulled and staring a thousand miles away. Instead of a suit and tie, his clothes looked rumpled and filthy, the sleeves on his shirt too short and his jeans long enough that the back ends were catching on his heels. The five o’clock shadow did little to hide the bruising along his jaw, a deep and painful muddied purple that was shaped uncomfortably like someone’s hand.

And that was to say nothing of the gun in his hand.

“Charlie?” Sarah repeated.

He said nothing, didn’t flinch or move the gun, his gaze still fixed and empty of recognition.

14. Hudson & Rex It’s Not My Blood prompt

The door flew open with a crash, kicked in with such force it broke one of the glass panes in the window and making everyone - including the other animals - jump.

Bailey may have screamed. Just a little one though. Like when her brother would lay in wait around a corner in a darkened hallway and jump out at her.

Linda dropped her water bottle with a crack on the tile, choking more than swearing as she spit what was in her mouth across the monitor.

“What the -” Linda swiped at her mouth, angrily turning towards the door, but stopped short.

“I need help!”

An older man - not like, old old, but older than Bailey and younger than Linda - stood in lobby, a large German Shepherd in his arms. The beautiful dog hung limply, and for a horrifying moment, Bailey was sure it was dead.

There was just…so much blood. In the dog’s fur, on the man’s hands, on his suit jacket and white shirt.

And then the dog whined, briefly trying to lift its head, but unable to rise higher than a few inches before dropping back down.

15. Hudson & Rex - caught in a snare prompt

Charlie laughed. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to Jesse. Or at least, what it was supposed to be, instead of the pained puff of air and the grimace it became.

“You know, as much as this hurts - how stupid is it that I’m glad Rex missed it?”

Without really thinking, Jesse mused aloud. “He does have four feet instead of two - and he weighs about a hundred pounds less than you. It would be easier to carry him out.”

The blood welled up between Jesse’s fingers even as he pressed down hard enough to make Charlie yelp, and Rex immediately pushed his head against Charlie’s, whining.

“Y-yeah,” Charlie admitted. “But animals don’t understand pain like that - there isn’t really an understanding of ‘it only hurts now, but we’re trying to help it feel better’. Rex is the best, b-but…” his teeth chattered for a second, and he looked almost apologetic. “That’s pushing it.”

“So…you promise not to bite me when I try and get this off, right?” Jesse asked, hoping he was actually distracting the older man.

“No.”

16. Hudson & Rex fell down a well (ish) prompt

For the most part, Charlie could laugh at himself. It was hard to deny the accusation of being accident prone when normally simple things, like walking Rex home when his car was in the shop, turned into life-threatening-near-death experiences, like being buried alive. Or diving for a lost camera, something which he’d done a hundred times - the diving part, anyways - before, became an actual drowning incident after having his air cut fifty feet below the water’s surface.

It was easier to laugh at it then dwell on it. He took offense to the constant Lassie and Timmy references only on Rex’s behalf, because Rex’s heroics were real, thank you very much, but it was an amiable offense, rooted in good natured teasing. His usual response was “Excuse you? I have not fallen down a well. Timmy and I are not the same.”

He shivered, shifting in the almost knee deep mud at the bottom of hole he found himself in.

There goes that defense, he thought bitterly.

17. Hudson & Rex claustrophobia

It really shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Charlie developed claustrophobia, but somehow, it did.

Maybe because it started off slowly. Rationally, even - if an irrational fear could ever be considered rational.

After the freezer incident, he stopped crossing the threshold into Sarah’s lab until he ran his fingers across the sliding door, feeling it move beneath his fingers at the slightest touch from the sensor, proving that it wouldn’t lock behind him.

After the diving incident, he stopped closing the door to the bathroom all the way when he was in the shower, facing purposely away from the spray and towards the open door.

After the near-miss with the shipping container, he started avoiding parking in the garage, opting to walk from the further open lot, no matter the weather. He rationalized it was for Rex’s benefit. The shepherd liked the extra walk, especially since it allowed him to get extra snacks and pets from their favorite coffee and donut vendor.

After being buried alive, he stopped sleeping in the dark. Rex changed from sleeping on his bed on the floor to the bed with Charlie, so when Charlie bolted upright in the middle of the night, gasping at air he was sure wasn’t there a second ago, Rex could sidle closer, stretching out the length of the bed so that from toes to shoulder, Charlie could feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, and the cold wet of his nose.

18. The Umbrella Academy - Diego asks Five to help out with a case where kids are going missing from a prestigious boarding school

“I’d rather lick battery acid,” Five growled.

Diego sighed, scratching at the raised scar tissue on the side of his head. “Trust me, Five, you’re not my idea of a good choice, either. You’re not my first choice. You’re not even my last choice. You’re literally the only choice.”

“Guess it’s not happening then, huh?” Five quipped with a smirk, blinking across the living room and back to the bar for his abandoned drink.

“Five,” Diego protested, “it’s not like it’d be the worst thing you’d ever done.” At Five’s raised eyebrow, Diego hastily added, “I mean, how could it possibly be worse than the Apocalypse? Or, you know, ninety nine percent of your life so far?”

19. Prodigal Son - totally forgot I had this

“No, JT, really, I want to know,” Malcolm snapped, holding his hand out – steadier than JT could remember ever seeing it – jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Hmm? If you know, I’d love to hear it, because I haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m a bit of an outlier, you see – people aren’t good with things they can’t categorize. They want to stuff you in a box whether you fit or not, and I’m guessing as a black, male, combat veteran, there’s a couple boxes people like to tick off for you, right? Suicidal. PTSD. Temper problems. Into drugs and alcohol. Anyone ever tell you you’re a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off?” JT didn’t answer – it was rhetorical and both of them knew it. Veterans today had a rate of suicide comparable to WWII, and instead of trying to curb the trend by digging deeper to find out why, Washington just swept it under the rug – denied treatment, refused disability claims, shoved people out on the street like Monday morning garbage. The only time people cared enough to even Google the statistics were November 11th and the last Monday in May.

annnnnnnd 20. 9-1-1 Bobby calls Buck his kid outloud

“He’s my kid!”

The words were out of his mouth before Bobby could stop them, before he even registered what it was he was saying. The gunman sneered at the sentiment, unmoved by Bobby’s plea.

“Your kid, huh?” The man sniffed, ducking his head to swipe the back of his wrist across his nose without moving the gun from where he ground it against Buck’s temple. “Then he oughta be worth somethin’ to you.”

Bobby kept his hands up, placating, and trying not to let them shake.

This was too much like the explosion. Too much like the bomber.

Buck injured, close enough to see but too far to help, while Bobby had to talk a madman down from killing part of his family.

“He’s done nothing to you,” Bobby said. “Nothing to anyone.”

The man’s lip pulled back in a snarl, and gun dug further into Buck’s head. “Nobody’s without sin, Chief.” He gave Buck a swift jerk, making the kid cough again as his windpipe was slowly crushed in the man’s grip. “How ‘bout it, kid? If I go lookin’, what am I going to find?”

#look here #this is a lot #I know that #hopefully they'll all be finished one day #maybe #I'm trying to get out of writing whole epics for every prompt #because I'll be here until I die #writing games #tag you're it #9-1-1 gen fic #9-1-1 #yellowstone #magnum pi #hudson & rex #haunting of hill house #so help me todd #whump fics the lot of them #or at least hurt/comfort #found family for the win except in Todd's case where it is found bio family

35 notes · View notes