#and whacked on panic and anxiety and misery

[farthertothemoon]

It's ok to have bad days when you're healing. It's ok to have regressions even if its "been some time." It's ok to say "no, I can't do this right now" or "I need some time." It's ok to heal how you need to.

You experienced something no person should ever have to go through and you've fought every day to stay afloat. You are strong. You are powerful. You are worth it. Life moves forward and so do you. Every single day you make progress. You may not see it, but it's happening. You have something to be proud of.

You are loved, even if some days you feel utterly alone. Once again, you are worth it.

[fenandfield]

Buried Beneath

Fic summary: Despite the tremors Phoenix felt a groan as the old courthouse shifted and creaked with the earth beneath it and he felt his face go pale. Realizing what was about to happen, he only had seconds to act as he rolled Edgeworth under the prosecutors bench, throwing himself on top of him just as the entire building fell in on itself, trapping the two attorneys inside its bowels.

The ground went still

Or

After a particularly devastating earthquake, the courthouse is in ruin. Phoenix and Edgeworth are trapped down below the wreckage until help arrives.

Word count: 4049

Chapters: 1/1

Story and link to read on ao3 are just below the cut, reblogs and comments are lovely :)

It came out of the blue - like earthquakes tended to do - fast and terrifying as usual.

Phoenix stood in front of the court, pressing Edgeworths witness with no remorse as Maya stood faithfully behind the defence bench, sneaking candies into her mouth when she thought no one was watching.

It was with Edgeworths faltered “Objection-“ that the ground had begun to tremble. And it trembled hard.

Phoenix stumbled to his knees as someone screamed “earthquake!” and panic settled over the courtroom. A TV fell off the wall behind him with a clatter and the presented case evidence slid off the desk as Phoenix shielded his head with his hands and ran for Maya where she stood frozen in fear.

The ground continued to shake.

“Evacuate, evacuate the building!”

Phoenix fought for his balance as he tugged on Mayas sleeve, “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

The spirit medium fell into his side with a stumble. “But, Nick! What about Mr. Edgeworth?!” She cried over the noise of shattering objects and frightened people.

Phoenix gasped, eyes going wide. Edgeworth. He turned. Miles hadn’t moved from his place behind the prosecutors bench, eyes forced shut and knuckles white where they gripped the wooden banister.

Without thinking he shoved Maya towards the exit, “I’ll get him out of here, you go!” She stared back with tear filled eyes, rooted to the quaking floor. “Go!” He barked, fixing her with a stern glare until she sniffled, turning on her heel and running for safety.

The ground continued to shake.

Phoenix spun around. He knew he only had a matter of moments before Edgeworth would spiral out of mental reach or worse, faint. But it was too late. Phoenix had taken his first step forward just as Miles’ eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the floor, forehead striking the desk rather harshly on the way down, impact eliciting a sickening crack.

“Miles!” He screamed as he staggered over to his slumped form, grabbing the man by his shoulders and slapping at his slack face. The man lying limp on the floor made no response. “Don’t do this, we have to get out of here!”

Despite the tremors Phoenix felt a groan as the old courthouse shifted and creaked with the earth beneath it and he felt his face go pale. Realizing what was about to happen, he only had seconds to act as he rolled Edgeworth under the prosecutors bench, throwing himself on top of him just as the entire building fell in on itself, trapping the two attorneys inside its bowels.

The ground went still.

Phoenix came around to the scent of blood and the sensation of a crushing weight resting on the lower part of his body, most specifically his right ankle. Swallowing blearily he lifted his head with a groan and opened his eyes.

What had happened?

Right. Earthquake. Edgeworth. The courthouse collapsing.

He coughed as he attempted to take a gulp of air, littered with dust and debris. His surroundings were cast in darkness though if he squinted he could still make out a dim light source coming from somewhere behind him.

So they were buried. Hopefully not too deeply if light and oxygen was still able to filter its way through the wreckage.

They were buried alive. Okay, Wright. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t fucking panic. It… it could be worse, right?

He could be dead.

As his vision adjusted to the minimal light source he could make out the silhouette of another persons head slanted to the side on the floor underneath his own body. Miles.

Phoenix felt a jolt of panic as he realized that the other man had yet to make any signs of life. Freeing a hand, he placed two fingers on the side of Miles’ exposed neck.

One beat. Two beat. Three beat. Four.

Phoenix let his head hang with a sigh of relief. Edgeworth was alive, simply out cold. The fact sent a small pang of worry through his system, albeit, a fact that he was slightly grateful for because the position they had ended up in was quite… undignified.

Phoenix lay on his front, arms that had previously been wrapped around Edgeworths shoulders now propping himself up. The exposed side of his body had been completely buried, forcing the two men taught against the far wall of the bench, and Edgeworth… Edgeworth lay tucked almost perfectly underneath Phoenix’s own self. Practically nose to nose on the floor.

Phoenix felt his ears go red with heat at the realization that there was nothing separating the two attorneys except for the clothes on their backs. Embarrassed, Phoenix attempted to roll off of his unconscious friend but met resistance in the form of searing pain in his ankle.

Stifling a cry of pain he held his breath and pulled at his leg as hard as he could muster. He tugged and tugged to no avail, cursing and panting.

Then something shifted. Something heavy. Shifting the opposite way that Phoenix needed it to go. He bit his lip hard as the pain grew tenfold, moaning in misery. Okay, so that was a bad idea.

He

Was

Stuck.

And with Edgeworth pinned underneath him, it didn’t seem like they’d be freeing themselves anytime soon. No, they’d have to wait for help to come to their aid, and pray that it would get there fast - if it came at all.

He tipped his head as far back as it could go, desperate to make their whereabouts known. “Hello!?” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Can anyone hear me!?”

Only the sound of Edgeworths even breathing met his ears.

Phoenix had heard stories of victims in these types of burial situations. Some having to lie in wait for days on end before being uncovered and by then… it was too late. Asphyxiation, starvation, internal injuries. It took them all out.

Fear was like ice in his veins.

Hastily, he placed his fingers back against Edgeworths throat for reassurance. The prosecutor was still alive but unresponsive. Phoenix swallowed as he stared down at Edgeworths moppy bangs in the dark. He couldn’t panic now. Not when Miles surely would, thanks to his past trauma.

And wouldn’t this situation just make everything ten times worse for him. Phoenix chewed his bottom lip in sweltering anxiety. It would be more than a challenge to keep Miles calm when he woke up.

If he woke up…

Phoenix winced and would’ve smacked himself for that thought if he had the space to move. He couldn’t afford that sort of doubt, not now at all times.

He shifted again in an effort to find a more comfortable position for his ankle as it continued to throb but went still when he heard a faint voice.

“...please…” Miles breathed and Phoenix’s heart leapt into his throat. He was coming around.

“E-edgeworth?” He stuttered in a low voice, so not to startle the man beneath him.

Miles made no signs of recognition, eyes closed and head tipped to the side. “Please… don’t… don’t hurt my father…”

Phoenix’s bottom lip was starting to swell under his constant nipping. “Edgeworth… M-Miles, it’s me, it’s Phoenix…”

Miles finally lifted his head to reveal the other half of his face which was - much to Phoenix’s horror - slick with blood. Phoenix’s eyes flew wide and he pushed away from Edgeworth only for the back of his head to make contact with the underside of the desk with a dull ‘bonk’.

He rubbed at the sore spot as he vividly remembered Miles whacking his own head on the bench when he fainted. He better not be concussed. Phoenix didn’t know how to deal with head injuries very well.

“Ph… Phoenix..?” Miles eyelids fluttered for a moment before they shut again. “No...no… don’ hurt…” Edgeworth whimpered and Phoenix shushed him gently, uncomfortable and unsure of how to treat the situation. He had never seen the man so open and vulnerable before.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Edgeworth.” He consoled as he tilted his head to try and get a better view of Edgeworths head wound. The poor lighting discoloured the crimson liquid, altering its shade to one of inky blackness. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “That looks bad, Miles.” Subtly, he maneuvered his arm and patted down his breast pocket, removing his tissue that he stored in there. With one hand he shook it until it unfolded and used it to dab at the blood that coated half of Miles’ face and hairline.

Edgeworth immediately pulled away with a grimace and a noise of pain. “No… no…” he gasped and tossed his head, limbs weakly beginning to shiver.

Phoenix braced himself as Miles’ tossing and turning put pressure on his wounded ankle. “Hey, it’s okay… it’s okay Miles.” He struggled to keep his voice light as pain flickered across his entire leg at the change in posture.

Ever so slowly Edgeworths stirring ceased, and his only movements became the incoherent muttering of his lips and soft trembles of his body. Hesitantly, Phoenix wiped the blood from his cheek, smearing it slightly up the bridge of his nose as he went.

It was obvious that Miles was not faring well and it terrified him.

Phoenix didn’t know if it were the blow to the head or the PTSD that was making Edgeworth act so different - so <em>wrong</em> - but he figured it was likely a healthy combination of both factors.

Miles kept muttering incoherencies under his breath in a broken voice of a whisper as Phoenix cautiously cleaned his wound to the best of his ability. When he located the source of the blood he winced with Edgeworth as he felt it out with his fingers. A gash, roughly two inches long sat on top of a tough lump of swollen flesh that rested just underneath Miles’ hairline.

Ouch.

Phoenix knew headwounds bled quite a bit, but he was not expecting his handkerchief to become soiled with the substance as fast as it had. His fingers were sticky and red, stained almost as much as the fabric in his hands and yet the cut kept oozing. Not knowing what else to do, Phoenix refolded the tissue and settled it on top of the injury before pressing down. You were supposed to put pressure on wounds, right?

Miles moaned underneath him and Phoenix patted his chest with his free hand in an awkward attempt at comfort before remembering that he was probably smearing blood all over the expensive suit.

He retracted his hand with a meek chuckle. “Yeah, we’re in a bit of a squeeze, aren’t we Miles?” Tentatively, he lifted the corner of the handkerchief to check for clotting but had to press back down when more blood instantly welled up. “You know… you’re supposed to keep this red stuff inside your body.”

He kept up the pressure as Edgeworth continued to shiver as if he’d been left in the polar circle - most likely had something to do with blood loss and shock - Phoenix assumed. He hated the silence but hated the echo of his own voice even more, so he opted to stay quiet, kept sane only by the sounds of Edgeworths faint mumbles and exhales.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the quake had struck, but it felt like days. Phoenix rubbed at his nose. It had probably only been a few hours at max and yet there had been no sight nor sound of rescue.

Phoenix swallowed dryly, if anything he’d be dying of thirst before sun set. With a sigh, he doubled his pressure on Miles’ brow and mentally settled into the never ending silence.

But then.

Miles woke up.

With a gasp the prosecutors eyes flew open and he jackknifed halfway before whacking his forehead off of Phoenix’s and collapsing back onto the floor.

Phoenix clasped a hand to his head with a shout of surprise. “Miles!”

Edgeworth blinked and even in the dark setting, Phoenix could plainly see one pupil larger than the other.

Not good.

“F-father…” Edgeworth croaked.

Phoenix shook his head, “No, no, it’s me Phoenix, Phoenix Wright.”

Miles sucked in a breath through his nose, crinkling it on the exhale. “Wr...Wright?” The hint of confusion in his voice was strong. Yeah, he was definitely concussed, Phoenix decided.

“Yeah, it’s me… how do you feel?” He asked lightly, not expecting his next words to be a holler of pain and surprise when Edgeworth started moving again.

Miles pushed at him weakly, “Ge’ off…” he slurred as he writhed.

Phoenix grabbed at miles wrists and pinned them easily to the floor. “Stop, stop. Don’t move, please stop moving.” He hissed through his teeth at the agonizing sensation of the weight increasing pressure on his injured limb. “We’re stuck, okay? Now please, stop moving.”

Something Phoenix said must've managed to worm its way through Edgeworths swollen skull because immediately, Miles went still again. There was a beat before either one of them made another sound.

“St-stuck?” Miles’ voice was high with terror. “No… no…”

Shit, wrong thing to say… “Well, yeah! But it’s not that bad really. Well, I mean it’s a little snug...”

“No no… not… happening…” Miles coughed and spluttered as he attempted to twist out of Phoenix’s hold. “Have to… no air… st-stop stop stop…”. The prosecutor's breaths swiftly turned into panicked pants, settled on the cusp of hyperventilation.

Phoenix didn’t know what to do or say to qualm his friends fears. “Mi-Miles, breathe- you’re…we’re gonna get out of here, okay?” Edgeworths chest heaved and in the gleam of the light, Phoenix caught the trails of something wet on Miles’ face. Tears.

Edgeworth was crying.

Phoenix’s heart broke at the sight.

“I… We’re going to get out of here, Miles. I promise.” Phoenix let his head dip close enough to Edgeworths that their foreheads brushed briefly. “I promise you.”

All too suddenly Miles went totally still and Phoenix pulled away, worry contorting his features. Did he just pass out again? Phoenix didn’t know if he could handle being alone in the dark again.

God, he felt like a little kid.

“Miles... You still here?” He cried, voice shaking with poorly restrained emotion. No response from the man lying trapped underneath him. “Miles, wake up!” He barked, shaking the silent man by his wrists.

“Do… shut up…” Miles moaned when Phoenix began relentlessly chanting his name, poking his cheekbone with every syllable.

Phoenix laughed at the sound of his voice, now that sounded like the Edgeworth he knew. “Oh thank goodness, I was so worried!”

“Wrigh’ is that… you?” Miles’ voice was hardly louder than a mere whisper but it was still music to Phoenix’s ears.

“He-hey, Edgeworth… yeah, it’s me.” He sighed in relief at the coherency he could hear in his colleagues tone.

Miles squinted up at him. “You… you’re lying on top of me…”

Phoenix felt his smile falter, pressing his lips together as his thoughts spiralled. Hadn’t they already gone over this? “Yeah, I kinda am… sorry about that.” He confirmed. Miles simply blinked.

So Edgeworth still wasn’t… all there.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long number of seconds before Edgeworth whined. “Get off… you big… oaf…” He made to lift his wrists again but gave up against Phoenix’s heavy grip.

“Sorry, sorry, no can do.” The words ‘<em>we’re stuck</em>’ were on the tip of his tongue before he bit it back. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “How’s your head?” He tried instead.

Edgeworth swallowed hard. “Hurts…” he admitted without interrogation - another red flag revealing what state he was in. Edgeworth wasn’t the type to tell the truth when it came to personal feelings.

“Yeah, yeah I bet it does.” Phoenix started slowly, unsure of what words would trigger Miles' psyche into another panic attack.

Miles coughed, harsh and wet sounding, “...why?”

“Why? Uh, why what…” Phoenix frowned momentarily before realization struck. “Oh, well you took a good hit. Whacked it real good.”

Miles made a sound somewhere between a hum and a groan. “W-where?”

Phoenix paused. How was he supposed to answer that in truth without igniting another freak out? Easy.

Lie.

“We’re, uh, in bed…?” Phoenix grimaced as soon as the words were out - what kind of excuse was that?

“...Oh.” Miles sounded slightly surprised, but he made no grunts of disapproval, which is what Phoenix had been expecting without a doubt in his mind. “T-together?”

Phoenix squeaked. “Yep! Don’t you remember, we’re uh-“ <em>he was really digging out his own grave here</em>, “- We’re dating.” He choked out.

Miles frowned. “Don’ remember…”

“Well I’m not surprised, you hit your head pretty hard.” Phoenix chuckled awkwardly, mixed emotions washing over him at the continuation of the charade. “How do you feel, Miles?”

Edgeworth sighed and turned his neck, eyes fluttering closed. “T’red… Head hurts…”

Alarms blared in Phoenix’s mind as Miles relaxed in his hold. There was something he had read about concussions and sleeping. “Oh wait wait, Edgeworth you can’t sleep right now!”

Miles growled. “But… bed?”

“Yeah, yeah we are in bed but Miles, you’re hurt.” Phoenix pleaded but Miles kept his eyes closed. “Come on, you have to stay awake… you could- you could die... an-and I don’t want to be alone…” His voice dimmed exponentially on the last part, admitting the fact more so to himself than Edgeworth.

“Alone… is not… head… hurts…”

Phoenix shushed him as Miles shifted minutely as he whimpered, brushing back his shaggy bangs with a blood stained hand.

“Make… it stop… Phoenix…”

Phoenix felt his breath catch in his throat. There was… there was nothing more he could do to help.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked, tears stinging at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Miles.”

“Please don’... don’t hurt my… don’t… father…”

Phoenix tucked his head into his chest, fighting back tears. He couldn’t deal with this, he needed out and he needed out now.

Miles went utterly limp and a lump formed in Phoenix’s throat, swollen and hard and nearly impossible to form words around. “Miles?” He choked, no longer comforted by the sound of Edgeworths breathing. What was once steady and even was now shallow and breathless.

No response.

His hope grew dim as the light source faded.

Night had come and what was once warm was now pale and cold.

He was shaking from the chill, clutching to Miles’ body heat like a moth to flame. The man underneath him had stopped shivering long ago.

It had been hours since Miles had passed out and he had yet to move of his own accords. Phoenix was scared for his life. If Edgeworth died in here… it would be all his fault. To make matters worse, Phoenix had accidentally reopened his cut when he had peeled off the crusty handkerchief and the wound was now bleeding freely again.

A trail of blood escaped the hold of the fabric clutched to Miles’ face and it streaked down his temple like a dark red tear.

Phoenix clenched his jaw at the sight. What he was doing wasn’t helping, <em>he</em> wasn’t helping, he was useless and they were both going to die because of his incompetence.

His eyes burned with malice, and his mouth contorted with the verge of tears. What happened to staying calm? Stay calm Wright, stay calm…

”Phoenix.”

Stop imagining things and relax…

”Phoenix…” A woman’s voice, calm and cool rang echoelessly inside his mind. ”You’re not imagining things.”

Phoenix froze, holding his breath.

That voice… could it really be..?

“M-Mia?” He gasped as hot tears spilt over his cheeks. Maya must be channeling her late sisters thoughts somehow, meaning… the medium had to be close by.

Mia’s huff of laughter was the best thing Phoenix had ever heard. ”Hold on just a little bit longer, Phoenix. They’re close, they’re so, so close.”

Phoenix had never cried so hard in his life. Rescue was coming, they were going to make it.

He patted Edgeworth on the shoulder, “Did you hear that, Miles? We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna get out of here, just like I promised!”

Only… Miles…

He wasn’t breathing.

Phoenix’s world came crashing down in a sick mockery of the courthouse walls as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream and he <em>yanked</em> his ankle free of the rubble with a sickening crunch. He would’ve screamed if he had felt the pain.

But his mind was solely focused on Miles laying stiff on the floor.

“No!” His throat was raw with emotion as he placed his ear against Edgeworths still chest, barely feeling any relief when the delayed beat of his heart registered in his mind. “No, no, please god, no!”

Frantically he hovered his hands over Miles’ chest and head, scanning the ground for any sort of clue as to what to do next.

“What do I do, Mia, what do I do?!” He screamed into the darkness but the woman had vanished back into the realm of the dead. “Oh god Miles, not now, please!”

Miles' features were peaceful, creases and worry lines gone into the night and Phoenix punched his chest with a newfound hatred for the man.

“Don’t you do this to me, don’t you leave me now after everything we’ve been through!” Phoenix screamed as he shook Edgeworths shoulders, watching his head turn bonelessly from side to side.

Phoenix settled a bloody hand on the side of Miles’ face as he steadied himself and realized what he needed to do.

With one final deep inhale, Phoenix steeled his mind and pressed his lips to Miles.

The kiss of life.

Plugging Edgeworths nose and transferring his air into the prosecutor's lungs, Phoenix pulled back to breathe again before diving back down.

“Come on you stupid idiot, breathe!”

Again and again he forced his oxygen into Miles’ unresponsive body, crying and panting and begging and dizzy with exhaustion until

Someone

Grabbed

His

Shoulder.

“Sir, sir! Can you hear me sir?” A man hollered from above.

Phoenix whipped around, mouth agape with shock. “Ye-yes! I’m here, we’re down here!”

“Okay sir, just hang on a minute, we’re gonna get you out in a jiffy.” The man retracted his hand with a “Hey tell that weird girl she was right, there are people trapped under the prosecutors bench!”

Phoenix sobbed openly as he rocked Edgeworth in his arms. “They’re here, they’re going to help us, Miles… everything is going to be okay.”

But everything wasn’t okay.

Miles still wasn’t breathing.

The rubble cleared above and gentle hands reached inside and began to pull him free from the wreckage.

“No, no!” He cried, delirious from pain and terror as he was broken free of his temporary prison, “help him, help him please…”

The hands laid him down on a stretcher that was set on the floor. He went willingly as someone jumped into the hole in his absence.

“Hey we need a medic over here! This ones not breathing!”

Phoenix closed his eyes, tears still flowing freely. Edgeworth was going to die and it was all his fault. He couldn’t save him, he couldn’t save anybody.

Slender fingers entwined with his own. “Nick?” Someone asked, hesitant.

Phoenix opened his eyes.

Maya.

“Ed- Edgeworth…” He opened his mouth to speak but she quieted him with a finger to his lips.

“Mia wanted me to tell you that Mr. Edgeworth will be okay. He’s hurt bad, but he’s gonna make it...” She paused for a moment as a medic bustled over and fastened an oxygen mask over Phoenix's face. “His spirit is strongly tethered to this plane. He won’t die. Not today.”

Phoenix choked on a sob as he clutched Mayas hand in his own. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been so emotional but then again, he’d never been buried alive before.

Over Mayas shoulder he could see Edgeworth being fastened to a stretcher identical to his own and he let his eyes flutter close as Gumshoe appeared at his side and they wheeled him away.

He trusted Mia with all his soul.

Phoenix’s own stretcher was lifted and began to roll and Maya kept pace beside him as he was loaded into the back of an ambulance. “You did good, Nick, you did good.” She whispered consolations to him as the air in his mask turned sweet.

“Everything’s gonna be okay…”

The world began to turn circles around him and Phoenix felt his body relax into the cushions underneath him.

“You can rest now.”

And rest he did.

[devnny]

INTERFERENCE.

Dead by Daylight AU drabble, Devi/Nny | 5840 words

WARNING for: Lots of blood & violence, (impaling, stabbing, y'know, JTHM-type things)

DBD!au credit to @ask-the-maniac

BACKGROUND: Devi and Johnny have both been trapped in the Entity’s Realm for an unknown amount of time, seemingly months. With no other allies, Devi worked to tolerate Johnny, and sought shelter beyond the campfire inside his home. They spent any time Devi allowed herself to relax watching slasher movies, and sharing what meager snack-food Johnny was awarded for his ‘work’ during trials. Unfortunately, their tumultuous relationship, and inability to communicate properly, easily led them into fights in-between moments of camaraderie.

One said fight carried over into a shared trial, and the combination of Johnny’s exacerbation with the argument, his impatience, and his reopened, agonizing wounds, urged him to end his misery in some way. He thoughtlessly struck out at Devi to stop her shouting, and succeeded in stabbing her in the side of her stomach. Both were shocked at the sudden violence, but Johnny could not bear the weight of his action long enough to apologize, and instead fled to complete the trial and escape the unavoidable fallout.

It has been a couple of weeks since then, and they have not spoken again. Devi holds deep resentment, despite the fact that wounds and death are ‘temporary’ in trials. Johnny is deeply remorseful, but too cowardly to approach Devi and express as much, mostly because he does not feel he deserves any forgiveness. The Entity ‘allows’ him to hear the trials of other killers, and he always listens for Devi’s voice amongst the screams, out of paranoia.

--

Devi stumbled over her own dragging boots as she ran from the killer tracking her. Her shoulder clipped the bark of a nearby tree as she struggled to keep her footing, and though it scrapped at her skin, the sturdy trunk kept her from falling completely to the ground.

“HAH—F-fuck!” She cried out against her better judgement.

It was growing difficult to connect to any judgement at all the longer the effects of The Doctor’s shock therapy went untreated. No one fucking told her get electrocuted by him induced insanity! As it was, Devi could barely hobble along. She couldn’t keep herself quiet, and her shaking fingers hardly had enough strength to grasp a flashlight, let alone enough to repair a generator. She was useless like this!

She tried to calm her haggard breathing as she continued into the undergrowth of the woods, but despite her best efforts, air wheezed in and out of her at an aggravating volume. A sudden laugh and appearance of her pursuer caused her to scream, and she staggered backwards away from him. Devi realized too late that the fading face was an apparition, and had no time to move before a sharp pain struck her back.

Another scream escaped her throat as she dropped to the dirt. Her fingers could only dig into the earth for a few fruitless seconds before she was hoisted up, and thrown limply over The Doctor’s shoulder. A slew of curse words rolled out of her lungs as she squirmed and clawed at the fabric on his jacket, but she was becoming increasingly aware of how feeble she was. She spit another fevered swear, this time at her piss-poor luck, and at herself, for letting the situation get so hopeless.

“FUCK YOU.” Devi snapped at her abductor as a ‘final’ act of defiance as they reached the nearest hook. The moment spent yelling meant she failed to brace herself for the horrible agony of being impaled, and she shrieked as the dirty metal pierced below her shoulder. The Doctor spared her a ghastly smile, whether intentional or not, then journeyed into the brush again.

Blood gurgled up past her grimacing lips, and her fingers curled over the tip of the hook that now protruded from her chest. She coughed, and tried to pull her torso upwards, in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain by removing weight from the injury. Her hands slipped on her own blood shortly, and the full weight of her body pulled at the wound again, making her cry out and spit blood to the floor below.

Her blurry eyes looked for any figures in the nearby area, but she still had enough of her mind to know better than to hope her ‘teammates’ would come rescue her. The few times she had been hooked, she always ended up fighting the Entity’s limbs before anyone bothered to get her—likely because they needed assistance with something else—or even once, she managed to unhook herself.

She had grown to blame Johnny for most of her ostracization, seeing as everyone and their grandma knew that they had some sort of relationship. It started with him refusing to engage with her in shared trials, which Devi explained, when asked, was because they had a friendship prior to being brought into the Realm, one that ended in attempted murder.

This led to a lot of suspicion and assumptions from the other survivors when she began spending time at his house over the safety of the campfire. It was just not done; amiability between survivors and killers. The knife he’d put in her side proved them correct, at least.

Devi couldn’t spare the time to be bitter over her lack of allies – she was better off handling herself alone anyway. Old hermit habits die hard, after all.

Her arms trembled as she urged them up over her head, only to have her weak fingers slap and grip aimlessly for the straight top of the hook that, in any other situation, should not have been difficult to locate. Devi hissed in irritation and continued to grab for the metal she sought, and panted in relief when her hands finally connected with it.

With a shaky inhale, and the tightest grip her fists could manage, she steadied herself to pull upward. She let out a guttural, groaning yell as she heaved herself up, but her joints were aching, and weak, and quickly buckled from the pressure. Devi spat out a gasp, then a curse, as the familiar sight of the Entity’s sharp extremities appeared in her hazy peripheral. The failure to remove herself had called it sooner, damn it all.

She breathed heavy, almost in a whimper, as the anxiety instilled from The Doctor’s power amped up further. This dimension definitely wasn’t a comforting place, but even still, she had never experienced such panic-stricken terror in a trial before. Even when Johnny attacked her, the shock had worn off as soon as she felt she had escaped him, and was promptly replaced by anger. The fear she felt now made her eyes film, and had her heart beating faster than she could count.

The Doctor’s laugh tormented her despite his absence, and his shape began to flicker back and forth across her field of vision. The glitching image of him made her stomach turn from panic, and she twisted her face away. She had just closed her eyes to quell the growing nausea, when a familiar, aggravated scream pierced the air, and her eyes snapped back open.

“BASTARD!” She heard Johnny shout, followed by a clang of metal. Her eyes frantically looked for the source, but saw nothing. It was impossible for Johnny to be there, there was never more than one killer in a trial at once. She was about to write it off as another madness-induced hallucination when the figure of The Doctor came rushing back into the area, followed hastily by a spindly, erratic silhouette—one any other survivor would only know as The Maniac’s, but one Devi knew as Johnny’s.

Johnny stopped his chase abruptly when he spotted Devi hanging a few yards away. He paused for just a moment, aghast at the sight of her, before his face contorted into rage again, and he sprinted to continue his pursuit of The Doctor. Devi could only watch him move in dumbfounded silence, barely able to process something so bizarre with her heartrate as high as it was.

“You FUCKER, hold STILL—” Johnny seethed as the other killer doubled back towards Devi. “—DON’T GO NEAR HER.”

He skidded to a stop beside a set of nearby lockers, and without missing a beat, forced his skinny fingers between the gaps on either side of one of its doors, and wrenched it from its hinges in one mindless tug. Devi barely had the chance to catch sight of The Doctor to her side, only alerted by his habitual laughing, when her eyes saw the blur of the locker door as it flew by and whacked against The Doctor with a very loud metallic sound.

The killer staggered back, even more rightly confused than before, but appeared to decide to leave The Maniac to his own devices, and abandon the endeavor of guarding his captured survivor. Johnny sped after him a ways, making sure he was gone, before finally approaching Devi’s injured person.

“No—” He hissed at the Entity’s limbs that had inched ever closer to their intended sacrifice. “—fuck off!”

Johnny swatted at one of the claws with his ever-present knife, surprising it away enough to give him the room to grab Devi. His lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her ribs tightly, and Devi could do little besides gasp his name before he hoisted her upward. His enhanced strength made it easy to lift her, but he felt immediate remorse for the pained scream Devi coughed out as he freed her.

The Entity’s presence ignited in his mind, furious with him for interfering, and demanding that he leave immediately. Johnny ignored it, and settled Devi as carefully as he could against his chest and over his shoulder, freeing up one of his arms to wield his knife. He took another look around, wild and furious, and brandished his weapon at the nothingness around them.

“TOUCH HER AND DIE!” He yelled out to the woods, just in case The Doctor was nearby. Devi settled her arms around his left shoulder in an effort to prop herself up, but she was too shocked to do much more than lean against her would-be savior as he trekked away from the clearing.

Despite the moderate safety Johnny’s presence brought her, Devi’s eyes still blurred with static intermittently, and she shrieked against her will when The Doctor’s face appeared before her again. She knew it wasn’t really him, but her brain wouldn’t listen, and demanded her body panic and try to squirm away from her ‘attacker’. She could only faintly hear Johnny insisting she was okay, and that she needed to be still.

She was suddenly thrust downward, and after some disorienting pawing and eye lolling, Devi was able to focus enough to see Johnny kneeling in front of her, shaking her urgently.

“Devi!” He shook her shoulders again. “Devi—Devi! Look at me, you NEED to calm down!”

She could only mumble a weak, panicked argument in response. Johnny frowned and continued to fuss over her, trying as best he could to sit her up straight. Devi realized as he did that she was sitting at the base of a tree. She pressed her back up against the bark, and worked to slow her breathing. She felt her tense muscles ease at the recognition that her efforts finally seemed to be working.

“Devi.” Johnny nudged her chin, still wary of touching her too much. “Hey—you need a med-kit or something.”

Devi managed to focus fully on Johnny, and she was relieved that her sight seemed to be normal again. She watched Johnny’s twitchy figure shuffle back as he looked around, paranoid as always. His eyes flickered wildly around as he searched briefly near them for anything that could look like one of the chests he’d seen survivors loot through.

“Damn it all—fuck!” He grumbled to himself, then moved to grab Devi again. She resisted a little, mostly due to the fact she was desperately gripping the puncture wound on her chest with one of her hands.

“C’mon, Devi!” Johnny stood and tried to coax her up despite her exhaustion. “There’s no telling what—”

He was interrupted by a cracking below his boots, and he looked down in surprise to see the earth snapping open to reveal glowing orange beneath.

“SHIT.” Johnny spat, and stumbled back. There was only moderate relief that the cracks widened in his direction, seemingly following him away from where Devi sat—instead, there was immense fear at what the Entity intended to do to him as punishment.

“SHIT, WAIT—” His voice hiked in fear as a few claws began to push out from the breaking dirt.

Johnny’s attempt to stall was short-lived, as an individual appendage shot out from the middle of the pulsating rocks, and impaled him through his back and out the center of his chest. The strength was enough to lift him off of the ground, and he could only tilt his chin down to stare at the pointed claw jutting out from his sternum in shock.

Devi’s gasp withered as her throat closed up from terror. She recognized this sight as “the collapse”—a measure in ending prolonged trials that broke apart the fabricated reality of the area, and forced survivors to flee to any possible exits, or otherwise be killed in the same manner that Johnny was currently stuck.

But, as it was, the area was not collapsing; the only place that she saw the Entity’s furious orange glow was in front of her. She thought amongst her panic, that the Entity must have intervened to handle Johnny’s meddling itself. She hoped that it wouldn’t turn its attention to her next.

The other extremities extended higher as Johnny’s still writhing body slipped down the length of the one that’d struck him. Devi heard him cry out again to try and dissuade the Entity from inflicting even more damage, but it was a useless effort. The rest came crashing down, and Devi couldn’t pry her wide eyes away from the sight of him twisted and crushed by the binding claws. She felt fortunate that Johnny’s head was out of view when the first limb hooked downward and delivered the ‘fatal’ blow to the top of his skull.

Her boots scraped against the ground as she tried to move impossibly closer to the tree behind her. Nervous breaths panted out as she watched the Entity’s claws descend into the earth, carting Johnny’s body down with them, fearful about what would happen next.

Instead of any further violence, the cracks closed up, and the forest went dark and quiet again.

After a few tense seconds, Devi scrambled up and rushed to find a med-kit, as Johnny insisted just moments prior.

--

The horror whirling inside her chest was leagues different than the aimless, sickening anxiety from the trial. Her mind was crystal clear as she ran with extreme purpose past the trees that marked the way to Johnny’s house, which might actually be worse, considering it was her mind.

As rationality returned to her, Devi became painfully aware of the impossible feat Johnny had performed to save her, and of the deep price he paid as punishment. All the smeared details she’d only half-recognized in her disoriented state flooded to the forefront of her thoughts now, but none were more alarming than the idea that she formed herself; the idea that the retribution the Entity bestowed upon Johnny could have been permanent.

Devi grimaced, ignoring the ache still resonating from her now-healed wound, as she forced herself to sprint ever-faster. No killer, as far as her memory served, had ever been dealt with in the same way as a survivor might. Almost everyone that had been here longer than her insisted that the Entity ripped the soul from your body when accepting a sacrifice. ‘No other way to describe it’, they’d said.

She didn’t know if that was a crock of shit or not, but she did know survivors were made to respawn after ‘death’, but killers…? She had no idea. There was nothing to base any kind of guess from, but she prayed that it would treat a killer’s death the same.

The sight of Johnny’s house spurred her on, and she bounded over the ugly lawn with the hopes that Johnny would be inside to greet her. Maybe bloodied and battered, but there. Her boots tromped onto the porch, and she didn’t hesitate to grab the knob and swing the door open fully. She gasped at the messy blood splatter that pooled in the middle of the living room.

Despite her heart leaping up into her throat, Devi did what she could to remain calm. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d entered his house to find a bloody mess, this was just the first time it was his blood. And, the first time that there was… so much of it.

Her mouth twisted uncomfortably, and she walked hurriedly inside.

“Johnny!?” She called out into the room. There was no immediate response, but she could see among smatters of gore some dragging shoeprints that led to the bathroom. At least that was a sign of movement—of life. Devi took a deep breath, and hurried to the ajar door.

“Johnny…?” Her voice raised in an attempt to remain brave in spite of circumstance. She poked her head inside, and sucked in a horrified breath at the sight of his thin leg dangling over the side of the tub, a small puddle left below it where blood had dripped from the heel of his boot.

“NNY!” Devi gasped, and rushed to the side of the bathtub. Her palms slapped against the stained porcelain as she gripped onto the edge, and she peered down at the bloodied body of her only true companion. Johnny’s eyebrows twitched a bit from the sudden noise, and a confused gurgle emitted from his throat. The fact he was alive eased Devi’s concerns only slightly.

“Nny, oh my God, are you alright?” She asked worriedly as she watched his labored breathing.

Johnny raised his hand up, and gave her a thumbs up without any real consideration, then let it slap back down onto his matted shirt. Devi huffed a chuckle, though still apprehensive, and leaned over the side of the tub to move some hair out of his face.

“Jeezus, Nny…” She sighed as she pulled back tufts of sticky hair. The relief she felt would have been embarrassing, if she didn’t feel so indebted to him.

There had been many times, up until quite recently in fact, that she wished Johnny would just die. He caused her a lot of grief—that was an understatement—and had made a few attempts on her life to boot,  all of which he claimed to regret, but seeing as that didn’t seem to stop him from repeating the same behavior, she always had her doubts.

In spite all of their difficulties, however, Devi never wanted him to die for her. The thought of her life being owed to someone else was just too much pressure, and it being owed to Johnny of all people was even worse. Devi was unsure if she could go on living normally with the knowledge that he’d met a grisly end, just for the sake of protecting her. It was fucked up!

And it was made even worse by all of their recent reconciliations. If this was the same idea of Johnny that she had in her mind when she got to this loathsome place, she would have been more creeped out by his ‘selfless’ act of ‘bravery’ to rescue her from brutally dying. She would have suspected he wanted something in return, like forgiveness, or a chance at a revived relationship. But Devi had spent enough time with him, and had enough talks with him about parasitic head-voices, motives, and remorse, to know that while Johnny was a horrific murder time-bomb with limited empathy at times, he was also immensely intimidated by her.

It was more than fear; there was a depth to it that she had only ever seen in a wounded animal. He was well-aware that his actions were unforgivable, and each time the chance to get close to her arose, Devi would see a spark of hope in his eyes, just to watch it slip away as fast as it appeared. His tone didn’t change, nor did his demeanor, but the look in his eyes as he would turn his attention elsewhere gave her the impression that while he wanted to have more, he couldn’t bring himself to act on the urge; like he was silently berating himself for desiring something as grotesque as a tender moment.

His caution wore away at her suspicion, like it had in the past – not that Devi wanted to accept that, not fully, anyway. But as she watched him below her, grappling with the pain of his multiple injuries, she felt a warmth itch at her heart that she decided to act on, for once.

With all his caution, and all his many mistakes, she knew his actions tonight were out of fear, and pure fear alone. A fear that was somehow both selfish and selfless; because the concept of her death was more agonizing to him than any torture he could be subjected to, even when that ‘death’ was a temporary one.

Devi wasn’t sure how much trust she wanted to extend to him now, with that tidbit in mind that his motives were still selfish at the end of the night, but she decided a little TLC would be a decent show of her gratitude.

“Why would you do something so stupid?” Devi asked with a weary smile. Johnny’s eyes finally managed to wince open, despite how heavy his eyelids felt.

“Whag’t… do you mean?” His good eye tried to focus on her, but the vision was almost as blurry as his other, bloodshot one. He heard her laugh again, and felt her palms press against the sides of his head. He was sure now that he was hallucinating from blood loss.

“I don’t even know how you got in the trial…” Devi mumbled to herself, deciding Johnny was too weak to explain anyway. At that, however, Johnny registered what she was asking him about, and hallucination or not, his indigent mind demanded he tell her.

“You were… screaming.” He looked to her again. “I could hear you screaming an’… I just… needed to get to you.”

His lips pursed. The more he spoke, the more consciousness returned to him, and he made an effort to lift his head. It was a futile effort, and his bruised skull would have whacked against the bottom of the tub if Devi hadn’t braced the back of it with her fingers.

“Ouch… hah-hah.” Johnny murmured disjointedly. He lifted his chin to look at her again, and his face fell serious. “I pushed on the ‘barrier’, or what-the-fuck-ever, like crazy until it just, gave in? I guess? I don’t know, I didn’t stop to think about it, I just ran.”

He grunted as he tried to steady his shoulders, and let out a puff of air when he felt Devi’s other hand press against his chest to ease him back down. He stared at her in awe, unable to recall a time when she was so tender with him. Physically, anyway.

“Devi…” Johnny mumbled uncertainly as she plucked at his sticky clothes with an unsavory look. She sighed, and moved her forearm around the back of his neck and shoulder as carefully as she could.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Nny.” Devi spoke calmly, hoping the tone would be enough to coerce him as she began to lift him. “The blood’s starting to dry.”

“Hrgh—” Johnny gagged back a groan from the ache in his abdominal muscles as he tried to sit up himself. “Gak!”

“Don’t strain yourself, you moron.” Devi laughed, and gripped his side securely. “I’ve got you.”

His irises snapped over to her in shock. The comment took him off guard – his hallucinations were never so kind – and his breath slithered past his parted teeth in slow wisps. He didn’t have the mental fortitude to struggle as Devi started to coax his jacket away from his shoulders.

With more groans and curses, the two managed to slip his thin arms from the sleeves, despite the leather’s insistent want to suction onto Johnny’s skin with the tenacity of a hellbent octopus. Johnny did his best to fight his wooziness as Devi shed the coat from his back and laid it over the side of the bathtub, only just now grasping that his lightheadedness was due to the significant amount of blood he had lost recently.  His slow-processing brain, however, didn’t fail to register his extreme aversion to skin contact, which was even more emotionally charged with the person trying to slip off his shirt being Devi.

“NO.” He spat, and swatted her hands away from him. Devi hunched back for just a moment, then started her efforts again.

“Johnny, your shirt is disgusting—”

“NO, no it’s fine—I’ll rinse it off in here—in the shower with… it on.” Johnny gasped in panic, and gripped at her wrist to ensure that she couldn’t pull the end of his tattered shirt up any further. Devi offered him a befuddled look, but shrugged off his odd behavior – it wasn’t like she wanted to see him undressed anyhow. She turned her attention to his lanky legs that were sprawled at the end of the tub.

“Are you going to insist you keep your boots on, too?” Devi asked him snidely. Johnny winced at the question, knowing despite the discomfort, that his answer would be;

“Yes.” He affirmed, albeit pitifully. Devi laughed.

“Oh come on, Nny.” She argued. “There’s probably already mud and blood in there, you want to add bathwater to the mix?”

“Eeugh… no… but I won’t take them off.”

Devi rolled her eyes at the ceiling, but again accepted his demands.

“Suit yourself.” She replied, then leaned across to the end of the tub to turn on the water.

Johnny laid still as the warm water pooled below his back, and despite the rewetting of his clothes, the heat did soothe his aches a bit. The water had barely rose an inch when he felt Devi’s fingers curling at the base of his skull again, and his unfocused eyes blinked in her direction.

“You’re so weird.” She commented as she forcibly sifted her fingers through his tacky hair. Johnny stared at her with growing surprise as she cupped water in her free palm and poured it over his hair to loosen the coagulating blood.

“Wh—” He grimaced uncertainly. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“…I’m rinsing the blood out of your hair?” Devi answered with another condescending smile. Johnny felt a twinge of anxiety at the ‘obvious’ answer—she was bathing him?

“No, no, that’s—I can do it, don’t bother yourself—” Johnny squirmed as he tried to reach his arms up above his head, only to cry out in pain from overstretching his aching muscles. Devi’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden struggling, but only patted his twitching arms back down to his sides.

“Relax.” She snapped.

“BUT…” His throat tightened. “But—I don’t… this is, too much! Too much touching, and…! Just GO AWAY, I’ll do it!”

Devi deadpanned at his loose ranting, and continued cleaning out his hair.

“Nny, you are all kinds of fucked up right now! Look at you, you cant even keep your head up by yourself. You expect me to believe you’re not just going to pass out and drown in five inches of water the minute I leave you alone?” Her scowl shifted away to mild annoyance as she continued. “Now shut up and let me express my moderate gratitude for you getting Venus-fly-trapped on my behalf.”

Johnny laid still again, his disbelief sending him into a more compliant state. She was… grateful? She was doing this because she was thankful that he had stepped in to unhook her? No, no that couldn’t be right, he thought; Devi would never forgive him after he had stabbed her like that… like an idiot. She hadn’t spoken to him at all since then! He couldn’t comprehend that she would truly feel anything but whirling, burning hatred toward him.

His throat swelled with guilt again, and he could feel the roof of his mouth responding to the regretful tears that were again brimming along his eyelashes. This was a horrible hallucination—worse than the dreams of her yelling at him and telling him how much she despised him. Johnny didn’t want to think of what could have been, again, if he had just had some damn self-control, AGAIN. The mere concept of Devi petting back his now-slick hair was too kind, too gentle for a wretch like him; he didn’t deserve it. And it was impossible! Impossible to ever happen, even as it was ‘happening’ now.

Johnny’s chest tensed as his breath hitched once, and his lower lip wobbled pitifully a moment before a small sob escaped him. Devi had barely noticed when another set of sobs shook out of him, and she stared down in shock at the whining maniac that laid in her hand.

“Johnny—” Devi tried to brush away his sudden upset with an unsure smile, thinking the reaction was because she refused to leave, but a full gasp from Johnny interrupted her.

He turned his head, unintentionally pressing the bend of his nose against the inside of her forearm as he cried. The erratic movement of his torso made his bruised body pulse with further pain, but he couldn’t stop himself from continuing.

“I-I’m, sorry.” He choked, and Devi blinked in surprise, still unsure of what he was distraught about.

“I’m sorry! I’m ss-sorry—so sorry,” Johnny gasped out, and managed to look up to her with his bleary eyes. “—’d… ‘n-never wanna hurt you.. Never, never…”

As he babbled, Devi became aware that he wasn’t referring to the current bloody mess they had on their hands, but the previous bloody mess—the one involving a dagger below her ribs. The memory of it stirred an irritated fire in her chest; certainly not to the extent it would have a few hours prior, but a fire all the same.

She watched Johnny cling to her wrist and sob urgent apologies with distrust lingering in her half-lidded stare. He was pathetic, filling her ears with his garbled remorse about that right now. She was in no mood to debate forgiveness, and he was certainly in no condition to offer her the kind of explanation or apology that could even potentially quell her ruined trust. She was mad at him, for a moment, for doing this right now when he was particularly feeble and defenseless, but the anger flittered away with each breath that puffed out of her.

Johnny’s delirious state reminded of her own just prior to this, the one that Johnny had single-handedly spared her the anguish of continuing for even a second longer than necessary. The remembrance of the foreign, nauseating anxiety that The Doctor put her through made her shoulders throb with unease, and her stomach lurch momentarily—what a putrid thing to experience. And it was Johnny that had come to her aid, and had been dealt swift punishment for doing so. 

As his whimpering continued, Devi relented her suspicions with a slanted smile. By all means, it really did seem that he’d acted with nothing in mind but her safety—he definitely didn’t seem to expect her to offer him anything in return.

“Nny, Nny…” She sighed calmly, moving her other arm more firmly around him. “C’mon, you’re gunna hurt yourself worse.”

The motion only seemed to intensify Johnny’s fit of emotional distress, and he pawed desperately at her arm that was now looped around him.

“NEVER!” He insisted again. “Never, want to hurt you—sss, so, ss-o sorry…!”

“Nny for God’s sake, relax.” She smiled at him and resumed combing back his hair. 

Johnny appeared to recognize through his hysteria what she was asking of him, and made an effort to calm his breathing, but only succeeded in leaving himself trembling like a purse chihuahua.

Devi sighed tiredly, though still smiling, and began the task of smearing the blood away from his face and neck. She wasn’t particularly gentle, but the touch of her fingertips across his skin soothed Johnny more than he wanted to admit, and he began to ease out of his crying.

He could feel, as his eyes started to drift shut, the warm water lapping up to his ears, and over and around his body, along with Devi’s hands flicking and palming the gore off of the front of his shirt. It was all so pleasant, almost cozy, despite the unforgivable wetness of it all. Just as he began to dip into sleep, Johnny was pulled one step back toward consciousness from the call of Devi’s voice, and the soft shaking she gave his body.

Through his exhaustion, he could understand vaguely that she wanted him to stand. He felt her shoulder under his arm closest to her as she pulled his soaking-wet figure up into an upright position, and he did all he could to make his wobbly legs cooperate.

His ego managed the capacity to be irritated when Devi laughed at him stumbling over the edge of the bath, too.

--

Devi let out a long sigh as she eased her back into the worn cushion of Johnny’s couch. The killer in question laid beside her with his head on her lap, snoring away the bodily aches and pains so kindly bestowed upon him by the Entity. Devi couldn’t fight the smile off her face as she ruffled her sleeping friend’s hair.

After dragging him from the bathroom, it wasn’t difficult to convince him that he needed to go to his room and change out of his dirty, wet clothes. She had no intention of assisting him in doing so, but the mild suggestion that she might sent Johnny into a half-conscious flurry of demands that he could do it himself. In spite of his insisting, Devi had spent a long twenty minutes keeping him awake and trying to coerce him off the floor—where he fell—from outside of his locked door.

They eventually ended up on the couch, where Devi had bundled him up in a blanket; the same blanket that he always managed to lay over her sleeping form when she fell asleep unintentionally during a movie. And with a current lack of nearby pillows, she offered up her thighs as a spot for him to lay his battered head. She smiled to herself at the already-anticipated shit-fit he would have about it once he’d slept off his injuries.

“Thanks, Nny.” She hummed, and ran her thumb across his temple.