#certainly not to a degree where you feel like you have to cause yourself pain with scrubbing and picking and chemicals that don't even work

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Share to save a dandruff-haver's sanity

i am making this post because all my life i have been told my dandruff was my fault for not washing my hair correctly and shamed for having "poor hygiene" as a result - this is probably where the bfrbs started tbh.

SO. There are two main types of dandruff!

Dry scalp flakes: these are white and itty bitty! you can probably solve this with a good hair and skincare routine. HOWEVER unless they are bothering you it is absolutely not necessary for any kind of health reason (afaik! disclaimer! i am not a doctor! this is not actionable medical advice nor should you take me anywhere near as seriously as a dermatologist). IS NOT CAUSED BY POOR HYGIENE.

Fungal dandruff: Bigger, yellowish, possibly oily/greasy flakes! Caused by your genetics going Oops All Yeast! Generally requires a prescription antifungal treatment from a dermatologist! ALSO NOT CAUSED BY POOR HYGIENE.

Either way, if you have dandruff, a dermatologist is the one you want to consult if it's bothering you! and frankly, even if it was a hygiene issue, nobody deserves to be shamed for that!!!!! especially considering that there are plenty of people who struggle to shower regularly due to circumstances beyond their control!

AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE STOP SHAMING PEOPLE WITH DANDRUFF!!!!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey, I really appreciate your answering sex ed questions and was hoping you might be able to help me out. Sorry for the long tmi I'm about to give but I don't know how to ask this except by listing out everything relevant I can think of.

I'm afab (cis-ish in the sense I don't particularly see myself as a woman but don't bother trying to get other people not to, but that isn't really important here) in my mid 20s and a virgin, and I don't know much about sex drive but what I do makes me feel like maybe there's something off about mine? I used to consider myself bi ace until I realised I did feel some degree of physical attraction to women that I don't to men so now I call myself a lesbian but the attraction I feel is still very... vague? Like, I'll see a pretty woman and get some kind of rush of feeling, but it's not really a particularly physical feeling of arousal (though I am autistic so it could be I just don't recognise it as physical because of interoception difficulties), more like... sorry if this is an inappropriate metaphor but. More like the urge to pet a really cute cat. I've made out with women and it felt vaguely nice (certainly nicer than with men which I've also done but it was awkward and vaguely uncomfortable) but no more than that. I don't get anything from my physical partners biting down on my neck or nipples or other common erogenous zones though I feel like they expect me to, and kissing is kind of nice but kissing with tongue feels awful. I'm not sure if I'd ever actually want to have full on sex, the thought of letting someone near my sex organs sounds unpleasant. I sometimes masturbate by rubbing my clit and there's a moment that feels like a climax where it gets really hard and sensitive and I used to think that was an orgasm but reading your recent description of an orgasm I'm actually pretty sure I've never had one. I've never had the urge to stick anything in my vagina, only tried it because I heard if it causes pain it might be a cause for medical concern (it didn't cause pain - it felt kinda nice, not anything special though and certainly not something I'd do without prompting). When I masturbate there's only one specific non sexual scenario that gets me off (though maybe about once a year at most I can successfully get off to sexual scenarios with fictional characters but never with real people and it isn't as effective). I used to masturbate more than I do now (I know it dropping off suddenly can be a cause for medical concern but it wasn't sudden, just spikes of activity getting gradually shorter and rarer - I can think of months when I'd do it every night to fall asleep but those are very much outliers scattered across the years rather than my baseline, which is occasionally doing it absentmindedly while falling asleep but very rarely intensely and on purpose). I probably should have sought out more sex ed at some point but sex just never felt very important to me.

Anyway I guess my question is. Is all this normal? Am I actually ace after all? Do I just have a low sex drive? Is any of this cause for medical concern? Do you have any idea how I might be able to actually get an orgasm, if what I thought was that actually wasn't?

hi anon,

all of this is incredibly normal. what I'm hearing is that you kind of like kissing women and aren't particularly interested in sex? that's awesome. kissing women is great, strongly recommend, and if that's all you're interested in then that's just dandy. no need to pretend to enjoy anything just because a partner expect you to; a polite "no thanks" will suffice, followed by kicking your partner to the curb if they don't listen to the no.

whether or not you call yourself asexual is up to you, that's none of my business and I can't pick for you. there actually isn't a secret barcode hidden somewhere on your body that will reveal your Real True Sexuality, you can just pick whatever words you want that kind of get the gist at any given time. would calling yourself asexual feel nice or helpful to you in anyway? if so, awesome! does it not appeal to you at all? okie dokie! don't do that then.

literally nothing you have described sounds like something that would be cause for medical concern, unless I missed something that's regularly causing you any physical pain or discomfort.

I think focusing on orgasms isn't that important, actually, and you can actually just touch yourself in whatever way you want for as long as it feels good, and then stop when it doesn't!

[blackjackkent]

Rakha is very quick and very observant so I imagine she has zero trouble solving the puzzle that leads down to the Sharran trial chamber below the Reithwin courtyard.

Oho.

As usual, places where she can be at peace are few and far between for Rakha, and always cause her to sit up and pay attention. Unlike in the past, this is not peace from the tadpole or the beast - but it is peace from the tingling pain that has been a constant presence ever since she entered the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

For a moment she just stands, stock-still, on the stairs, unable to fully process anything but the fact that the Weave has calmed. That it is intact and pure here, and it does not burn on her skin.

The stairs lead to a fairly small room, octagonal in shape, containing several statues of a lithe woman in gold and purple accents.

These same statues were at Grymforge, she remembers. They are statues of Shar.

That is why this place is safe, of course. Shadowheart said that she, as a follower of Shar, is protected from the curse's damage, at least to some degree. If this is a Sharran sanctuary - an odd place for one, beneath what was apparently a Selunite village - it makes sense it would share the same protection.

Rakha cares nothing for any god she has yet encountered. But this brief sensation of peace is enough to give her some pause.

She approaches one of the statues cautiously and examines it.

Narrator: "Do you accept Shar's test of your intellect?"

Rakha tips her head slowly to one side. What kind of test can she be given in a room of blank stone?

She does not necessarily think of herself as intelligent. She knows nothing of the world, after all, beyond what she has picked up in the last few short months. Wyll has said she is smart, though she suspects he looks at her with bias.

Perhaps she admits to a little curiosity - to know how she would stand up in the eyes of a god.

[SAVING THROW] Nod in acceptance. An untested mind is a dull mind.

Narrator: You feel a small pulse of energy race up your spine. And a strange sensation of... acceptance.

Rakha blinks rapidly and looks around, as if to discern the source of the feeling from somewhere in the walls. But there's nothing - just her companions all looking at her with mild bemusement.

She looks at the other statues.

"Do you think yourself wise enough to be granted Shar's blessing?" asks one.

"Are you bold of heart and sharp of tongue? Can you turn any and all to the Dark Lady's cause?" asks the other.

(A/N: I went around in circles on this for a little bit.

If I wanted to go very dark, I could definitely see an interesting path forward from this moment. Rakha is definitely numerically capable of passing all the tests, and there is a world where she might do so, feel empowered by Shar and by the protection Shar offers against the pain of the corrupted Weave, and starts expressing interest in Sharran faith.

Extrapolating forward... would she then stand next to Shadowheart and be more easily manipulated (by the beast and by her own fledgling conviction) into helping her kill Aylin?

It would be an interesting dramatic irony certainly. Fundamentally I don't think I want to go that way for a couple reasons - a) it would be a major regression on the progress Rakha has been making during Act 2 so far so I'm not sure it serves the overall story, b) like many of the other companions, Shadowheart's good path of self-determination strongly parallels Rakha's desire to do the same, and c) overall I want this to be a good path playthrough even though it means it will be similar to Hector's in some respects. If I do a dark playthrough it'll probably be dark all the way through. XD

More to the point though - I don't think Rakha should be able to pass these tests. The intellect one makes sense, because I've already established that Rakha is very smart. But her WIS is quite low both numerically and behaviorally, and she does have a high CHA for spellcasting but let's be honest - she's blunt and unpleasant. :P So this connection with Shar comes across as a bit more of a weird blip for her than anything else.)

She squints curiously at these plaques. Then she shrugs and turns away.

-----

"What was all that about?" Wyll asks good-humoredly as she turns towards the stairs again.

"Sharran tests," Rakha says with a curt shrug. "I don't know. Perhaps Shadowheart will." A pause. "Do you feel it?"

"Feel...?"

"The magic is clean here." She breathes out heavily. "I don't want to go back up."

He can't help the hint of a smile, hearing a note of petulance in the words. "If you don't go back up," he points out, "we'll never find Balthazar."

"Our revenge awaits us," Minthara adds, a low growl behind her. "Do not falter."

Wyll ignores the Nightwarden's dark tone and slips his hand gently around Rakha's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "My father often said - there is no way out but to go through," he says softly. "So let's go forward. We can come back here... if it starts to get too bad outside."

[aronarchy]

.

If your primary goal is to get off scott free of consequences, to triangulate back, to “win” or secure for yourself power and standing then this piece is not for you, and I gotta tell you, attempting to pretend and follow along is probably not going to go well for you in the long run. But if you’re compassionate and altruistic, if your primary goal is to do right by everyone, to leave the world better off, then there’s gonna be some sacrifices. Also—and this is important—you’re not going to be the one to determine how much. Personal consequences are not a price that you’re haggling.

Other people have a lot of rights that you have no say in. One of those rights is to stop being friends with you. Another is the right of people to tell their personal experience, forever. Even if you disagree with it. Even if it’s “objectively wrong.”

The loss of a friend, nevermind a partner or an entire community, is an incredible unbelievable pain. Our monkey brains are unfortunately wired to treat it as worse than the loss of a limb. But if you truly care about other people as people, rather than sources of pleasure or comfort for you, then you care about their freedom. And if they don’t have the freedom to disassociate or speak their story they have no freedom at all.

These are not freedoms that you can contractually negotiate with them, they are not freedoms that you should ever try to pressure against. Letting other people have agency is sometimes quite painful. They will sometimes make choices that hurt you or are misguided. That is our burden to bear. Ethics is not a game of legalistic “fairness,” ethics is about stepping up and shouldering certain burdens, certain unbelievable pains, so that everyone can be free.

It is of course important to also self-advocate. Compassion and goodwill can be taken advantage of. Intentional abusers can and will find those who are particularly empathetic and try to take advantage of them. Sometimes accusations of abuse will be projected to cover worse abuse. In some communities where abuse is treated seriously there can be a strategic “first-accuser advantage.” Some of these effective strategies can be adopted and replicated by abusers even without their conscious awareness of that.

There are also some clearcut situations where the power dynamic is overwhelming and obvious, like where one party controls an overwhelming degree of the other person’s life. A parent accusing a child of abuse, a prison guard accusing an inmate of abuse, a partner who entirely controls their partner’s finances and social life, doesn’t let them out, etc, accusing them of abuse. We have to use our eyes and common sense when a person with intense power accuses another. The parent, prison guard, or materially controlling partner may indeed feel pain, may indeed sincerely suffer emotionally, but that does not invalidate the very real and pressing power they wield.

You do not have an obligation to weigh the perspective of your accuser more heavily than your own perspective. You are certainly not obliged to let them cut you off from objective reality.

But it is important to err on the side of altruism.

This does not mean a “little concession” or a “little pain” from you, sometimes it can mean a fucking lot. Erring on the side of altruism can mean considering a world where the other person isn’t a total liar or brainwashed patsy trying to get you. And then oh shit.

This is not a negotiation where each person’s discomfort is weighed against the other’s. Sometimes to get things right you may have to undergo a lot more discomfort than you caused.

Accountability is lifelong. This is what our lives are about. Being accountable for our actions. Anarchism means infinite responsibility, not less.

.

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains, Night 30: Nothing Remains

''This is the end, this is goodbye. Listen for the children singing one last lullaby. One more dance, one more night, the final chance to make it right, crawling back from where you came. Set them free and just be gone, the nightmare's lasted far too long. I will end this where it began, according to plan. Set the stage and let the rage consume you, like a wildfire burning through you. Building a coffin from confetti and confessions, maybe there will be a lesson in the rubble when it's through. Buried in metal and a million memories, the temperature is rising to a thousand degrees! I never ever learned to let it go of the pain, I'll make it all burn till nothing remains!... Nothing remains…''

– Nothing Remains by MandoPony (Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator)

xXxXxXx

Sam had expected that the Showtimes wouldn't be happy to see animatronics that didn't belong to their fun and colourful restaurant to be there, but constantly glaring at her didn't exactly help them get rid of the Nightmares. On the other hand, the Nightmares didn't really care, being focused on their task. She was checking all the entrances to Freddy's, hoping to that the Drawkills would arrive soon, as the waiting made her quite anxious. She knew that she was technically safe, given how she had the Nightmares to keep her safe, as well as the black device that could cause a robot's system to be disrupted; not to mention the fact that Springtrap and Raven were waiting outside in the alley.

She still felt that many things could go wrong for them, but given that this was her idea and how she had already confronted Connor, it was obvious that she couldn't do anything stop. It was a domino effect she had started and she would also end it. At least I can hope that everything will go according to the plan, Sam thought as she paced through the restaurant. On the other hand, is this a good moment to ask myself what the hell I'm even doing? I mean, I made this plan up just last night! What if I had made the wrong decision?

Feeling anxious, she ruffled her hair with both of her hands, groaning in frustration, ''Ow, this is driving me crazy!''

As she looked up, she noticed Nightmare Freddy giving her a weird look. She then looked away, feeling weirded out by her earlier outburst and left without a word of explanation, walking towards the back door. Pull yourself together, Sam! It's not like this is the first time you attempted to burn Connor to ashes! Sam then sighed. On the other hand, it's not like we succeeded. She took another deep breath. Just calm down and focus on what you need to do now. It's not as bad as it looks and you know well that things could always get worse. She felt a knot in her stomach. That doesn't sound really encouraging.

She knew that arguing with herself won't help her in the long run. She had to have faith in her own plan and skills since, if she falters now, the future would be quite bleak. It certainly wasn't foolproof, but, in the end, there was only one person she needed to fool. Just take the damn bait, it's not as if I would expect anything else from you.

She tapped with her foot impatiently, aware that if she doesn't calm down this instance and focus, she might get caught off guard. Minutes passed, feeling like hours. Instead of thinking about the inevitable, Sam found herself wondering what will happen after Connor was finally gone. It was obvious that she and Springtrap would return to their regular life, having not to worry anymore about another serial killer. However, she was curious about what would happen to Raven. She didn't want him to leave, but she understood why Raven felt that there was nothing left for him, especially now that Ricky's had closed for good. Still, she figured that he deserved more than this.

Maybe we could do something about it. It doesn't have to end like this.

xXx

''They're sure taking their time,'' Springtrap muttered, leaned against the wall in the alley.

''Do you think that Sam will be able to handle the Drawkills on her own?'' Raven asked.

''If the situation goes the way she had envisioned it, I don't think she'll have any problems,'' Springtrap replied. ''Besides, I have taught her how to take apart and repair animatronics. All she needs to do is to immobilize the Drawkills and deactivate them. The only thing she'll have to worry about, though, is how much of a fight the Drawkills are going to put up.''

''Maybe they won't,'' Raven suggested. Springtrap just shrugged, with the two falling silent once again. They suddenly heard the back door opening, seeing an anxious Sam exiting the building. Springtrap glanced at Raven, who gave him an encouraging look. ''I think you should talk to her. We still have time and I'll keep an eye out for the Drawkills.''

Springtrap nodded, walking over to Sam, who was looking around and feeling a little lost. However, once she noticed Springtrap approaching her, she cheered up.

''It seems as if this is going to be a long night,'' she said. ''I mean, I'm already freaking out and nothing has happened. It's kind of stupid.''

''No, it's not,'' Springtrap replied in a comforting tone. ''I understand that you're nervous since, unlike last time, this was your plan and you want it to play out flawlessly. And, trust me, I know it will.''

''I guess that you're right,'' Sam said, feeling a little relieved to see Springtrap being so confident about the whole situation. The fact that he was so calm helped her calm down as well and worry a bit less. ''Honestly, I just can't believe that soon everything will be over. I mean, it's been just a couple of weeks since the last time we directly confronted Connor. Nevertheless, I'm glad that things will return to normal once he's gone.''

''Exactly,'' Springtrap said. ''Rest assured, you will be able to carry on with your life without having to worry anymore about an animatronic haunted by a murderer.'' He smiled, adding in a soft tone. ''I think we'll both finally be at peace once this is over.''

''Right,'' Sam said, giving a quick nod. She then lowered her head a bit when Springtrap ruffled her hair playfully, giving him a slightly annoyed look. Then, she hugged him tightly, with Springtrap embracing her. ''Thank you.''

''It's okay,'' Springtrap told her. ''Don't worry, you'll be fine. I mean, you've come a long way since we met.''

''Yeah,'' Sam said, smiling. ''You weren't really keen befriending me back then.''

''Honestly, I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you… and Emma,'' Springtrap added after a moment of pause. Sam chuckled.

''Well, I am glad that you did,'' Sam replied. ''These past weeks were amazing and I'm looking forward to more.''

''I'm glad to hear that,'' Springtrap said as he let go of her. He lowered his head for a moment, then looked back at her, his eyes glowing in a soft purple. ''You know, you still have a lot in front of you. If there's anything I had learned from this, it's that life is too short to let your mistakes drag you down and that you should use every opportunity given to make the best out of it.''

''You certainly did,'' Sam said. ''Although, there's still a lot to work on…''

''I know,'' Springtrap replied, sighing. ''I guess… Well, we can deal with that some other time.''

''I agree,'' Sam said, tilting her head as she realized that there was something that Springtrap couldn't bring himself to tell her. ''Will? What's wrong?''

Springtrap was silent for a moment, wondering how he should express his feelings. He knew that Sam wanted him to be completely honest with her, but it was still difficult for him to admit something he wished he rather kept for himself. However, he knew that Sam probably wouldn't be that much surprised by what was on his mind.

''Honestly, I'm glad that I could refer to you as my daughter,'' he said. ''I… well…''

He noticed Sam smiling, waiting for him to finish the sentence. However, before he could say anything, Raven approached the two.

''Do you hear this?'' he asked. Sam and Springtrap listened, only to hear footsteps echoing through the empty street.

''Yeah,'' Sam muttered, her eyes narrowing. ''You two should leave. If Connor's not with them, go to the hideout.''

''Good luck, Sam,'' Raven told her, with Sam nodding.

''Good luck to you too, Raven,'' she said. ''I hope that this will help you finally find peace.''

''I believe that it will,'' Raven said, smiling. ''Thank you once again.''

He then glanced at Springtrap, giving him a questioning look, and then quickly went back to his spot. Sam turned to Springtrap, smiling confidently.

''I guess we'll talk about this later,'' Sam said. Springtrap stared at her for a moment and then slowly nodded.

''Right,'' he said, feeling crestfallen.

''I'll see you soon, don't worry,'' Sam said, trying to cheer him up, only to notice that Springtrap looked rather upset. ''William…''

Sam was stunned when Springtrap suddenly hugged her. ''I love you… Please, don't forget that.''

''Will…'' Sam muttered, still in shock. Springtrap then let go of her and quickly left, with Sam hearing the Drawkills getting closer. She felt disturbed, with a knot forming in her stomach as she turned around and quickly walked back inside the building. She just had an incredibly bad feeling about the whole situation.

William, why did you tell me this?

xXx

''This is it,'' Drawkill Freddy said, glancing at Drawkill Bonnie, or rather, the animatronic that was now controlled by Connor. ''Are you completely sure about us going inside? What if it's a trap?''

''You forgot that it's not me who should be worried whether it's a trap or not,'' Connor replied, with Drawkill Freddy glaring at him.

Even though Drawkill Bonnie didn't change his expression, there was a tone of amusement in his voice. Drawkill Freddy growled, barely holding himself back from burning the animatronic to ashes. This wasn't his friend, but the man who destroyed the person he cared about. However, even if he damaged Drawkill Bonnie, it wouldn't do anything to Connor, and Connor knew that, deciding to taunt the Drawkill Animatronic simply because he could. He exchanged glances with Drawkill Foxy and Drawkill Chica, who all felt the same.

Nevertheless, they still went along with the plan, with Drawkill Bonnie trailing behind them. They went to the back door, finding it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, Drawkill Freddy pushed the door open. It was quite dark inside, but their eyes were bright enough to illuminate the hallway. They stood at the entrance reluctantly, only for Drawkill Bonnie to push past them.

''Move it, already!'' he yelled at them impatiently, walking down the hallway. The three followed him, still having a bad feeling about this. As they arrived at the main area, Drawkill Bonnie slammed the door open, the sound if the impact echoing through the seemingly empty building. ''Where are you, Afton?''

The four noticed an animatronic moving in the darkness, with Drawkill Bonnie rushing towards him, only to get tackled by another animatronic and pinned down on the floor. Drawkill Freddy, Drawkill Chica and Drawkill Foxy were staring in stunned silence as Drawkill Bonnie struggled against what appeared to be a nightmarish, golden version of Freddy.

''Why are you standing there like idiots?!'' Connor screamed at them, but the Drawkills were quite reluctant to help him. Suddenly, there was a surge of agony, causing the Drawkills to cry out in pain as static briefly covered their vision, forcing them to help Connor.

However, before they could do pry Nightmare Fredbear off of Drawkill Bonnie, Nightmare Freddy, Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Chica and Nightmare Foxy appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Drawkill Freddy rose his arms in order to burn them down, but Nightmare Freddy grabbed his arms, attempting to twist them in such way they would point at the Drawkill Animatronic, making Drawkill Freddy unable to use the flamethrowers unless he wanted to damage himself.

Drawkill Chica attempted to slash at Nightmare Chica, who just grabbed her thin arms with her clawed hands, twisting them. She had a much easier time pinning Drawkill Chica down than Nightmare Freddy, as she was much bulkier and stronger than the lanky Drawkill.

Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Foxy, however, struggled against Drawkill Foxy, who swung his scythe at them. Nightmare Foxy dodged it, but Nightmare Bonnie got knocked over, with Drawkill Foxy stepping on Nightmare Bonnie's chest and attempting to ram his scythe down his endoskeleton, only to fall on his knees, screeching in pain. Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Foxy got up, pinning the writhing Drawkill Foxy against the floor.

Even Drawkill Freddy and Drawkill Chica fell over, feeling the Nightmares restraining them. Drawkill Freddy looked up, despite the static, and noticed that Drawkill Bonnie had stopped flailing, turning limp. He knew that Connor was probably influenced the same way they were and decided to ditch them by disconnecting.

Then, the noise that filled their ears grew lesser and lesser, with the static only briefly crackling before their eyes. They were still subdued, partially due to the pain they felt, partially due to the Nightmare Animatronics, who kept them pinned down on the floor, but they could at least hear and see what was going on around them.

To their surprise, the girl who had accompanied Afton, Sam, stepped out, looking rather irritated. She was holding up her smartphone, with the flashlight function on, and glaring at them, but she gave no sign that she intended to harm them in any way. Drawkill Freddy suddenly realized that this was their chance. Connor was gone and, given their bleak situation, he probably figured that it wouldn't be worth to check on them. He didn't care what would happen to them, especially since it was obvious that Afton was nowhere in sight.

''I'm assuming that Connor had decided to send you over here instead of coming here by himself,'' Sam said, crossing her arms.

''You're right, except that he used Drawkill Bonnie as his puppet in order to navigate around,'' Drawkill Freddy told her, flinching as static briefly crackled across his field of vision. Sam turned to Nightmare Fredbear, who was currently poking Drawkill Bonnie, being confused that the latter wasn't responding at all.

''What exactly happened to him?'' she asked.

''He got fed up with Connor and decided to let Raven go, then basically told Connor to screw himself,'' Drawkill Freddy explained. ''Afterwards, Connor had turned him into a mindless puppet.''

''I see,'' Sam muttered, walking away and turning the lights on and turning the flashlight on her smartphone off. She glanced at the the Showtimes who were standing on the stage, each of them having glowing eyes and glaring at her. She just shrugged sheepishly and turned back to the Drawkills.

''D-Did Raven manage to find you?'' Drawkill Freddy suddenly asked, closing his eyes as static covered his vision again when Sam approached him.

''He did, and he also told me that you didn't reveal to Connor where I live,'' Sam said, with Drawkill Freddy looking up at her, as if waiting for her judgement. After all, she could do now whatever she wanted with them, as they were basically at her mercy. Sam kept quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath, continuing, ''Okay, I'll want to keep this conversation short. What exactly do you want?''

''What do you mean, lass?'' Drawkill Foxy asked.

''I want to know, if you were free from Connor's influence, would you help me, Springtrap and Raven to destroy him?'' Sam asked them. The three Drawkills stared at her in shock, completely baffled by her question. Eventually, Drawkill Freddy broke the silence.

''We would gladly assist you with taking care of Connor,'' he told her. ''However, I doubt we would be much of a help since Connor had installed a couple of devices that help him control us, similarly to what you did to us.''

''You mean this?'' Sam held up a black device, with the three Drawkills nodding. ''I could remove it, though.''

''Seriously? You would want to help us?'' Drawkill Chica asked, then shook her head, twitching as she tried to ignore the noise that would randomly fill her ears.

''There is a catch, though,'' Sam told them. ''As long as you swear that you won't hurt anyone, that you won't just go outside and murder people, I am willing to give you a chance.''

''Despite the fact that we hurt you…'' Drawkill Chica trailed off.

''You've been following Connor's orders at the time, right?'' Sam asked her, with Drawkill Chica nodding. ''Besides, I know that Connor is insane and going by what Raven told me about how he had treated you, perhaps you should have the freedom to decide what you want to do.'' Her eyes then narrowed. ''However, if you decide not to honor the condition I gave you, I won't have any other choice, but to take you apart and scrap you.''

The Drawkills were silent at first, turning their heads towards each other and nodding. Drawkill Freddy then turned to Sam.

''We promise,'' he said. ''If you help us, we swear that we will leave you alone and that we won't hurt anyone.''

''As long as the only person we are allowed to murder is Connor,'' Drawkill Foxy added.

''That is, if he can be murdered,'' Drawkill Chica added in a dry tone.

Sam stared at them for a moment, with the Drawkills fearing that they hadn't managed to convince her to aid them, only for her to nod approvingly.

''Okay,'' she said, turning the black device off. The Drawkills sighed in relief, the headache they felt vanishing. Sam then turned to the Nightmare Animatronics, who were still a bit doubtful about the Drawkills. ''You can let them go now.''

As the Nightmares stepped away, all of the Drawkills save for Drawkill Bonnie stood up. Drawkill Freddy looked at him grimly, then turned to Sam.

''Do you think that you might be able to repair Bonnie?'' he asked.

''I could take a look at him,'' Sam said. ''For this, I need to know what exactly Connor had done to him.''

''So, if you do figure it out, you would really do that?'' Drawkill Freddy asker her, with Sam giving him a questioning look. ''I know that I'm just repeating myself, but it's still shocking to me that you'd try to help us out, despite the fact that we attempted to harm you.''

''I am willing to trust you, as long as you trust me,'' Sam said, with the Drawkills feeling a little confused. ''In order to remove those devices, I will have to deactivate each of you.'' She tilted her head slightly. ''Would you really be willing to go along with that? After all, there's always the fear that I might just leave you completely deactivated.''

''Still, that would be a more preferable fate than being Connor's minion,'' Drawkill Freddy told her in a calm, serious tone. Sam was a little surprised at first, but then nodded, glancing at Drawkill Bonnie.

I guess that I can finally put my skills as a technician, as well as my knowledge from what William had taught me, to the test.

xXx

''You know, telling Sam that…'' Raven muttered as he and Springtrap walked through the streets towards Connor's hideout, both of them carrying cans filled with gasoline. After only seeing the Drawkills appearing at Freddy's, they both left quickly. ''You should've told her the truth.''

''I simply couldn't…'' Springtrap admitted, feeling guilty about keeping his intentions secret from Sam. However, he was glad that he had managed to tell her what he felt he should've told her a long time ago. ''We should focus now on our current task.''

''I guess that there's no way to tell what words should be a proper goodbye,'' Raven continued, ignoring Springtrap's earlier statement. ''She is going to be devastated.''

''I know, but it's for her best,'' Springtrap replied. ''I am aware that I'm not the one who should decide what's good for her, but given what I've done, I feel that it still would be the best if I remove myself from her life.'' He smiled. ''Nevertheless, I am proud that I got to see her grow out of her shell. It's been a rough start, but I can finally say that I have no regrets.''

''Really?'' Raven cast him a suspicious look, with Springtrap falling silent. ''You know, I believe that even the happiest man on Earth, if he were to die in peace, might still hold some doubts about his life, so why wouldn't you?''

''I admit, if it were up to me, I would've stayed, but we're talking about Sam's life,'' Springtrap replied. ''She has suffered enough because of me, becoming not only Connor's target, but also the victim of those who I wronged. This way, she would have the opportunity to finally live a normal life.''

''She won't forget about her experiences, though,'' Raven replied. ''I am aware that I know very little about the relationship between you two, but I am quite sure that she'll question for the rest of her life why you decided to leave her and whether it could've been prevented somehow.''

''I know, but I believe that she will eventually understand,'' Springtrap replied. ''This is where I want to be.''

Raven kept silent, aware that neither of them would return from this task. He had already embraced the freedom his own death would bring him, but he had to question Springtrap's decision. If the latter cared so much about Sam, why would he go so far to break her heart? Not to mention, there was also the question just for how long had Springtrap planned his to happen? Was Connor's demise just an excuse for him to leave, or had he made his decision long before Raven contacted him?

I guess that some question should remain unanswered.

xXx

''…''

''Hello? Bonnie?''

''Wh-''

''Oi, mate!''

''Wha-''

''Please, tell me that this worked.''

''What ha-''

''For his sake, give him a moment!''

''What happened?'' Drawkill Bonnie muttered as he tried to get up. His vision was entirely black and he had to tap around to figure out that he was lying on the ground. ''I can't- I can't see!''

''Then open your eyes, you dumbass!''

Drawkill Bonnie suddenly opened his eyes, having to wait for a moment to get adjusted to the bright light. He could see Drawkill Freddy, Drawkill Chica and Drawkill Foxy surrounding him, with Drawkill Chica being the one who yelled at him. All of them showed expressions that were a mix of worry and relief.

''What's going on? Where are we?'' Drawkill Bonnie asked them as he sat up. Then, it hit him. ''Wait, how come I'm talking to you?! I thought Connor had deactivated me!''

''Well, you weren't completely deactivated.'' Drawkill Bonnie looked up, shocked to see Sam walking up to him. ''Luckily for you, that bastard only disconnected the CPU, among other things, but I was able to fix that.''

''You?! But, why would you-'' Drawkill Bonnie was too shocked to say anything.

''Your friends made a promise that you wouldn't hurt anyone if I help you, and I hope that you will keep your word,'' Sam told him, looking at the rest of the Drawkills as well, who all nodded in agreement. ''As for Connor, Springtrap and Raven are on their way to burn him to ashes.''

''That is, if they manage to get past Ricky and his friends,'' Drawkill Freddy said, with Sam suddenly turning towards him in surprise.

''Wait, what?!'' She stared at him in disbelief.

''You don't know?'' Drawkill Freddy gave her a confused look. ''Connor had told us that he would move Ricky and his company to his hideout after Ricky's Wonder Shack had closed. I thought you'd be aware of that.''

''No, I wasn't!'' Sam replied, almost yelling at him. ''Springtrap, Raven and I thought that we'd only have to deal with you.''

''I'm sorry, I should've mentioned it earlier,'' Drawkill Freddy apologized, realizing that they wouldn't be getting rid of Connor so easily.

''We need to go over there,'' Sam frowned, still upset about the revelation.

''Of course, we will go there,'' Drawkill Chica said. ''After all, you, Raven and Afton are not the only ones who want to see that bastard burn.''

''Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?'' Drawkill Bonnie interrupted them, feeling completely out of place. ''Also, who are these guys?!''

He pointed at the Nightmare Animatronics, who had been standing aside, giving him a suspicious look. Having fulfilled their task of restraining the Drawkills, they stepped back, occasionally helping Sam while she was removing the devices that helped Connor control the Drawkills. Nevertheless, they were still ready fight back against the Drawkills if the situation called for it. Drawkill Foxy put his hand on Drawkill Bonnie's shoulder.

''It's a long story mate, but I'll explain it to you on our way to the warehouse,'' he said. Sam meanwhile turned to the Nightmare Animatronics.

''Please, clean this up,'' she told them, pointing at the wires, metallic parts and tools she used to fix the Drawkills. ''Then, you can return to the Sister Location. I'll go get Springtrap and Raven.''

''Good luck, then,'' Nightmare Freddy nodded, with him and the rest walking away. Sam then turned to Drawkill Freddy, a determined look on her expression.

''Where is Connor?''

xXx

''Over there,'' Raven said as he pointed at a small abandoned warehouse. Springtrap frowned, noting that the warehouse was actually a good hiding place. It was in walking distance from the town, but secluded enough for people not to notice it at first glance. ''Going by what Connor had told me, Wolfrun Corporation used to own it at some point, so he knew that it would be a perfect place for him to stay there since they had left a lot of tools and animatronic parts there.''

''I assume that they won't mind if we burn it down then,'' Springtrap said in a slightly amused tone. ''It's not like they're going to use it again.''

''You and Sam appear to have a thing for burning down public property,'' Raven said sarcastically. Springtrap snorted.

''I have to admit, this was the method my old partner, Henry, used to take me down,'' he replied. ''I can assure you that it worked, but we need to make sure that Connor doesn't escape.''

''Then, what do you suggest?'' Raven asked.

''We'll try to cover one room in gasoline and, if we get lucky, Connor as well,'' Springtrap replied. ''Once we start the fire, we'll hold him down in order to prevent him from escaping.''

''Sounds good to me,'' Raven said.

He and Springtrap then walked over to the entrance to the warehouse, opening the door and peeking inside. Nobody appeared to be there and the two quickly entering the building, with Raven leading the way.

''This way,'' he whispered as they entered a narrow corridor, with Springtrap noticing a door at the end of it. The two then stopped when they heard footsteps behind them, only to see Dahlia and Quentin walking towards them. ''What are they doing here?!''

''Damn it!'' Springtrap cursed, realizing that they may have underestimated Connor. Considering how Ricky's Wonder Shack had closed, he should've assumed that Connor would still try to use the animatronics in some way. However, he wasn't going to let that bastard win. He suddenly charged at Dahlia, swinging the can with the gasoline at her and managing to hit her in the head. Raven followed his example, knocking Quentin over and stomping at him for good measure.

However, the two Misfits wouldn't stay down so easily. Quentin managed to grab Raven's leg, with the blackbird animatronic being thrown off balance for a moment. Nevertheless, before Quentin could knock him over, Raven slammed the heavy can against his head, then lifted it and slammed it down again, smashing into Quentin's face. Meanwhile, Springtrap slammed the can against Dahlia and grabbed her head, reaching for the wires within her endoskeleton and pulling them out. The animatronic shook for a moment and fell over. He then turned to Raven, a little shocked to see that the blackbird animatronic's blows had managed to destroy Quentin's face. His jaw was loose and several pieces of metal flew out, with an eye lying on the ground next to him. Springtrap quickly reached for the wires, disconnecting them.

''There's no way Connor didn't hear this,'' he said as he and Raven got up.

''You're right about that Afton.''

Springtrap and Raven suddenly turned around, only to see Max, Ricky and Virgil standing in front of them, with Connor standing behind the animatronics.

''Something tells me that you were waiting for us,'' Springtrap said.

''I'd be lying if I said that I didn't expect something to happen, especially since that girl disabled the Drawkills,'' Connor replied, then grinned. ''Nevertheless, I have you now exactly where I wanted.''

''That's where you're wrong,'' Springtrap replied, briefly glancing at Raven, who loosened the cap on his can. At the same moment Connor realized what Raven was about to do, the blackbird animatronic threw the can of gasoline at the Misfits and Connor, splashing them. However, before Springtrap could use the lighter they brought, Ricky, Max and Virgil charged at them, knocking them over.

Max had managed to pin Raven down via his cutlass, piercing the blackbird's suit, but luckily missing the vital parts of his endoskeleton. Ricky and Virgil, meanwhile, had restrained Springtrap, who attempted to kick them away. He managed to briefly knock Virgil away, but Ricky grabbed his arm and twisted it, with Virgil managing to grab the other one. Springtrap stopped fighting, aware that he needed a new plan. He glared at Connor, who snorted.

''Did you really think that you would win?'' he asked.

''Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet,'' Springtrap replied. ''Your time is out, Connor.''

''I doubt that. Also, I'm known as the Hunter now,'' Connor replied confidently, only for his voice to fall flat when Springtrap started to laugh at him.

''Seriously? At least my nickname makes sense given that I was named after the very contraption that caused my death,'' Springtrap told him in a mocking tone, with Connor glaring daggers at him. ''You, on the other hand, never hunted anyone, but instead hid in this place like a coward while leaving others to do the dirty work for you.''

''How dare you?! You did this to me Afton!'' Connor yelled at Springtrap, pointing at the hybrid of his decaying body and filthy animatronic suit.

''Yes, and I wish that I had managed to murder you when I had the chance instead of letting you return as a possessed animatronic,'' Springtrap told him. ''I know what you want from me Connor and, rest assured, your attempts of attaining pseudo-immortality are futile. You will eventually decay and perish, with no one by your side to help you. What you did to those people did nothing to help you accomplish your goal.''

''What are you talking about?'' Connor asked, feeling rather anxious.

''I know that you fear death as much as you're fascinated by it,'' Springtrap said. ''However, nothing you do will keep you alive.'' He frowned, his eyes flaring up in a dark purple. ''The moment you decided that it was your right to take away someone's life, you made a dangerous enemy. You absolutely disgust me and I'd be delighted to see you burn to ashes.''

Connor was taken back at first, with Springtrap seeing the fear in his eyes. He smirked, enjoying the sight. Whether it was his ability or Connor actually being afraid of him, it didn't matter. All he wanted was for Connor to suffer for all eternity.

xXx

''So, that's what happened…'' Drawkill Bonnie muttered after Drawkill Foxy had explained the situation to him. They hurried down a street, almost running as they got closer and closer to the hideout, with the only thing that prevented Sam from breaking into a sprint being the fact that she didn't know where exactly the building was. Nevertheless, they had managed to find it in record time, as this time, it was the place they weren't afraid to return to.

''This is it, right?'' Sam asked Drawkill Freddy, who nodded. She then attempted to run inside, only for Drawkill Freddy to grab her arm. ''Hey, what are you-?! Let me go!''

''I'm afraid that I can't,'' Drawkill Freddy told her. ''You've done your part, but you should leave this to us.''

''What?'' Sam stopped fighting back, staring at Drawkill Freddy in disbelief.

''No offense, but we have no idea what might happen and we don't want you to get hurt,'' Drawkill Freddy replied.

''But…'' Sam protested, only for Drawkill Chica to interrupted her.

''This was part of our promise, wasn't it? To not let people get hurt,'' she said. ''That includes you.''

''I didn't-'' Sam stared at them, trying to come up with an excuse.

''Don't forget, we're still just machines, so we can be repaired,'' Drawkill Foxy added. ''You on the other hand, lass, might die for good if you go inside.''

''But, Springtrap and Raven...'' Sam attempted to fight back.

''Don't worry, we will get them out of there,'' Drawkill Freddy told her. Sam didn't reply this time, only nodding in agreement, but still looked quite desperate. She was afraid for Springtrap and Raven's safety and she wanted them back. Still, she knew that Springtrap would never forgive himself in the case she got hurt.

The Drawkills then went to the building, all four of them ready to tear Connor apart. It didn't take them long to find the room he was at, as they could hear him screaming at someone. The person he was screaming at laughed coldly, causing Connor to shut up. As the Drawkills entered a rather familiar corridor, they noticed a strange liquid splattered on the floor, along with a two cans of gasoline and a lighter.

''I see,'' Drawkill Freddy muttered, kicking the lighter away. ''Bonnie and Foxy, take those and start spilling them around. Don't waste all of it. Once I tell you to leave, you need to get out unless you want to be trapped in the fire.''

''Got it, chief,'' Drawkill Bonnie said, happily picking up one of the cans.

The four then made their way further down the corridor, having already figured out that the voices came from the room in front of them. They all knew that it was time to finally confront their creator.

xXx

''I won't let myself get humiliated like this,'' Connor said angrily, glaring at Springtrap, who was still being restrained by Ricky and Virgil. He then turned back to his tools, having decided that he would take the animatronic apart since it was clear that Afton was no use to him. If he wouldn't give him the answers he needed, he would experiment on him. ''I will not let them take me!''

''What are you talking about?'' Springtrap asked. Connor then suddenly turned to him, holding up a wrench.

''Those voices, they're driving me crazy,'' Connor told him. ''They won't leave me alone! However, if I find a way to stay alive longer, they won't take me!''

Springtrap was taken aback, looking around the room. He didn't see any spirit nor did her hear anything, realizing that Connor was hallucinating them. The more he broke down, the worse his hallucinations got.

''There's nothing that can save you,'' Springtrap told him. Connor suddenly turned to him, holding up an axe, staring at Springtrap gleefully.

However, before he could do anything, the door suddenly broke open, with the Drawkills rushing into the room. Shocked, Connor let the axe fall out of his hands, being only able to stare as the Drawkills started a fight against Ricky, Max and Virgil.

Drawkill Chica slashed with the sharp tips on her arms at Max, who let go of Raven in order to fend her off. He attempted to cut her down with his cutlass, but she just ripped it out of his hands and stabbed him into his head, causing him to stumble back and fall over.

Ricky and Virgil had been blindsided by Drawkill Bonnie and Drawkill Foxy, who hit them both with the cans, causing them to stumble. Drawkill Foxy's can had also been open, splashing the animatronics, while Drawkill Bonnie opened his and started to joyfully pour the gasoline around the room. Drawkill Freddy meanwhile tackled Ricky, grabbing his arms and then activated the flamethrowers. The animatronic screeched as flames erupted around him, stumbling as he attempted to get away from the heat. Instead, he got kicked by Drawkill Freddy, falling over. At the same time, Drawkill Foxy, slashed through Virgil with his scythe.

Springtrap and Raven were stunned by the turn of events, realizing that the Drawkills were on their side this time. They heard movement behind them, turning around and noticing that Connor was kicking away a bunch of boxes that covered the door at the far end of the room, trying to escape desperately. Raven ran after him, while Springtrap turned to Drawkill Freddy.

''Where's Sam?''

''She's waiting for you and Raven outside,'' Drawkill Freddy replied.

''What?! Why have you brought her here?'' Springtrap asked him angrily.

Drawkill Freddy stared at Springtrap in stunned silence, only to react when the latter turned around, following Raven. He looked back at his companions.

''Get out of this place, now!'' he said.

''But, what about you?'' Drawkill Chica asked.

''I'll back soon,'' Drawkill Freddy replied. ''However, you need to make sure that Sam doesn't run into this building.''

''What are you-'' Drawkill Bonnie attempted to ask, but was cut off by Drawkill Freddy, who took away the remaining can of gasoline.

''Go!'' he yelled at them. Then, he turned around, following Springtrap and Raven.

xXx

''You won't get away!'' Raven yelled after Connor as he stumbled into the room, frantically searching for something to defend himself with. He had attempted earlier to gain control over the Drawkills once they broke inside the room, but nothing happened. Having assumed that Sam somehow deactivated his the devices he implanted into them, he had no other choice but to escape.

However, before he could do that, he was slammed down by Raven and Springtrap, falling on the ground. Both of them pinned him on the floor, each holding one of his arms down. Connor whimpered in fear, trying to fight back, but was completely helpless.

''Honestly, there is something cathartic about this,'' Raven said, staring at Connor. ''You know, this was Bran's last wish. He wanted to see the monster who used to be his friend perish without a chance to return.''

Connor gasped, almost crying and glanced at Springtrap, who just glared daggers at him. He then lifted his head as he heard someone else entering the room, realizing that it was Drawkill Freddy. Without a word, the Drawkill Animatronic started to cover their surroundings in gasoline, eventually throwing away the empty can. He then walked up to Connor, glaring at him, his glowing eyes filled with nothing but hatred for his creator.

''This is what you deserve,'' he said, pointing his arms at the liquid and setting it on fire. Flames surrounded them, with Drawkill Freddy taking a step back, looking at Raven and Springtrap. ''Is this the ending you desire?''

Raven nodded.

''I have a promise to fulfill,'' he said, then smiled. ''It was nice meeting you guys.''

Drawkill Freddy nodded and turned to Springtrap.

''She is still waiting for you,'' he said.

''I have made my decision,'' Springtrap said. ''I am just trying to make things right. The nightmare's lasted far too long and I will end this where it began. I want everything to burn, till nothing remains.''

Drawkill Freddy lowered his head, stepping back and holding his arms up, aiming them at Connor, Raven and Springtrap.

''I'm sorry,'' he whispered.

Flames then erupted from his arms, blasting through the room and setting everything on fire. He then turned around, closing the door behind him, and started to light up all the gasoline, leaving a trail of flames behind him as he exited the room and walked down the corridor.

Soon, everything that was left was smoke and fire.

xXx

Springtrap turned to Connor, who screamed in fear as the flames engulfed him, only for him to stop. Whether he realized that it was no use or his voice box malfunctioned, Springtrap had no idea. He exchanged one last look with Raven, who seemed to be at peace with his fate.

''Thank you,'' he said, the fire burning away his arms and legs, his black feathers being eaten by the flames. The glow in his eyes slowly faded, but he was still managing to hold Connor down.

''I'm glad that I could help you,'' Springtrap replied, then turned his head away. The fur on his arms was burning away, the fire having already engulfed the lower part of his body, leaving his chest and head still in-tact. He then turned to Connor, whose eyes were filled with fear. ''There's nothing that can save you now.''

''Father…''

Springtrap lifted his head suddenly, surprised to hear a familiar voice. In the corner of the room, he saw Michael, Elizabeth and Sammy staring at him in shock. Being spirits, the flames couldn't harm them.

''Is this what you had in mind all along when you told us that we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore?'' Michael asked him, with Springtrap nodding. ''You know that you won't see us ever again after this?''

''I know, but if this is the price I have to pay for you to finally be able to be at peace, then it was worth it,'' Springtrap told him. ''I'm just happy that I could meet you all one last time.''

Michael was stunned, seemingly wanting to add something, but he didn't. He, Elizabeth and Sammy gave him a somber look, nodding in acknowledgement and then vanishing. Springtrap then turned back too Connor, whose glowing eyes grew dimmer and dimmer as the remnant that held his soul and suit together started to break apart. He smirked, locking eyes with him.

''I am not afraid of going back to Hell,'' Springtrap said, his eyes flaring up in a dark purple. ''Are you?''

xXx

Sam and the rest of the Drawkills waited outside, only to see flames and smoke suddenly erupting from the building. A few seconds later, Drawkill Freddy walked out. Sam looked behind him in anticipation, but only to realize that he was alone.

''Where are Springtrap and Raven? Why did they come out?!'' Sam questioned him, fear and panic surging through her body. ''What happened?!''

She stared in horror at Drawkill Freddy as he just shook his head, the realization hitting her.

''No…'' she whispered, tears filling the corners of her eyes. ''Please, don't tell me… Springtrap…''

''I'm sorry…'' Drawkill Freddy told her, placing his hand on her shoulder. ''This is what he desired.''

Sam started to shake, tearing Drawkill Freddy's hand off her shoulder and turning towards the building, which was now engulfed in smoke and flames. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and she started sobbing, completely heartbroken.

''William!''

She screamed in despair, but she knew that it was no use. He couldn't hear her anymore. She could hear the Drawkills walking away, abandoning her, but at this point, she didn't want anyone around her. She fell on her knees and broke down crying, remembering William's last words to her.

''I love you… Please, don't forget that.''

She sobbed, feeling cold and empty. All her memories, all her emotions, everything that she felt and experienced at this point… And it was those words that completely shattered her heart.

''William… You idiot!''

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

[todayisafridaynight]

GENUINELY so funny AraSawa occurred to you too for the hanahaki tags, but thinking about it, I appreciate both scenarios for different (but related?) reasons.

Because I've personally always found the base concept of hanahaki aesthetically immaculate, but impossible to relate to or take seriously. They don't love you back Specifically In A Romantic Sense so your options are either to DIE or have a surgeon come in and delete love.exe? Lol. Lmao even. Couldn't be me. Of course, to each their own, but sort of like what you were saying with Aoki and Yumeno, it's just not something I'm ever going to "get."

With MineDai, something I love about the canon dynamic is that I really don't get the impression Mine's even pressed about Daigo loving him back. Of course, there's a degree of "pining" as shown in his first character story, but it's also immediately subverted in that what Mine was pining for is a simple workplace friendship that would be more reflective of their status as oath brothers in his eyes. Like, fair enough, all things considered, right?

And in spite of the arguments that could be made here, I honestly do believe him overall when he says his love for Daigo is selfless and without ulterior motives. Even with his desire for friendship, it's super important to me that he resolved to never impose that upon Daigo unless it was what Daigo wanted. That's why Daigo had to be the one to initiate their friendship instead.

It's just refreshing, because often the execution of these types of concepts feel sort of adjacent to incel rhetoric in forcing two people together inorganically to lessen the "suffering" of one. Especially with the life-or-death nature of hanahaki played-straight pushing it to an extreme, and especially with the enormous backlog of fan-content where Mine is primarily only concerned with his own desires. But for Mine, because it doesn't cause him Suffering to not be loved back romantically (at least as far as he knows), "the problem of hanahaki" would not about The Pain of Unrequited Love, but a physical manifestation of extant problems.

It'd be about obliviousness, it'd be about miscommunication, it'd be about saying he's fine when he's not, it'd be about how the emotional barriers he puts up only serve to hurt him when his needs are unmet (kind of what we were talking about RE: Katase and past relationships; super excited to dig in and reply btw, I'm just rushing the Yokoyama clip for tomorrow), it'd be about workaholism and the need to overachieve in order to feel accomplished, loved, and wanted, and how all of that might intersect with physical illness.

That I can relate to and take seriously, because ignoring symptoms and keeping them to yourself so as to not inconvenience others really can kill you. Your crush not liking you back? Uh, not so much. But it's certainly not all gloom and doom either, because all of those things can be as comedic as they are tragic. So I think the Short, Sweet and Funny approach would be perfect.

And with AraSawa, it's kind of Just Works, right, precisely because it's another thing for Jo to endure in silence and make excuses for. "Just pretend it didn't happen. Brush it under the rug. That's what you do with secrets." It's so good as a representation of guilt and secrecy. And this is pretty much rehashing something my friend said (not about these two specifically) but if he just came clean, it might stop, but instead he continues to hurt both of them. The flavor.

In the case of Hanahaki for Mine and Jo, I do think and agree it would more be a matter not of their 'beloved' not liking them back, but just the fact they themselves either refuse to openly acknowledge the feeling, or don't try to confront the feeling and do something about it. It's more so an issue of themselves being so focused on being useful and overworking themselves that they give themselves sickness (that sickness spurring from that unspoken of love and the inability to express it because they don't know how to and whatnot)

Maybe it's just because I generally try to see things silly and funny, but yeah I dunno: letting your own overthinking or not wanting to be a disturbance just feels better than what's traditionally done with Hanahaki

[lilsprite-dreamlog]

4/6/15

I found this note from 9 years ago. Huge trigger warning ⚠️

Saving this in my lil online journal to remind myself how far I have come in my mental health journey.

Continue reading at your own detriment.

I constantly wake up and wonder why. why i am so lucky every single fucking day. My mind is a hurricane going straight for a radiation plant conveniently located to a large city filled of hopeless people waiting for their demise. my emotions are like a menopausal woman's a/c unit. hot and cold. cold and hot. i want to run. far away from everything that reminds me of the shit person i have become, start anew. yet i want to stay...locked in my room with all the candy and video games a gamer could want. and just one sharp blade. a large bottle of motrin. maybe a gun would do it. i certainly couldn’t hang myself. i like the thought of a gun. to have whatever is left inside of my hollow emotionless body sprayed across the walls and ceilings. it could be my final painting i ever paint. a red painting of pain.

i say these terrible things to myself and i wonder. why do i have these tendencies? why do i want to die as soon as i am bestowed with the gift of life when i wake up from another sleepless night filled with tears and denial and regret and pain and hate. and yet i feel as though my days are like a sunny rainy day. have you ever been somewhere where its sunny with barely any clouds but it’s still raining? thats how i would describe my life right now.

i love my life and everything in it. my mom dad brother all love me. i have great friends also. i have 2 dogs that are my life. i am young and “healthy”. why isn’t this enough for me. why do i want this? why do i want this all to go away?

i am not afraid of death. is that why i wish it upon myself? is it because i cant handle living in fucked up society anymore? living to work, working to live? that is not the life i want. unfortunately that is the only thing anybody can do in this life. not so bad if you do what you love for the rest of your life right? but what do i love? i am such a wildfire and i am not consistent. only when it comes to anime but in other things in life i cannot seem to grasp something that keeps me grounded. that is why i am scared to try hard drugs cause i know for sure i would be hooked. same reason why i dont gamble. i love drinking too much and i dont tell anyone that.

i smile everyday and laugh. when really i want to scream so fucking hard my lungs fall out of my throat and i cant breathe anymore. every time i drive my truck i do a small prayer a drunk driver kills me. sometimes i drive super fast and take my belt off and close my eyes then take my hands off the wheel. sometimes i put the blade to my skin but people will notice so i just do a small one when really i want to know how it feels to be stabbed in the heart. i know i have done it to many unfortunate souls that have seen some kind of light in my eyes. sometimes i put a handful of pills in my mouth.

i wonder if im fucked up like this because of my past. my cousin raped me when i was young. i was like 3 or 4. i was too young to know what he was doing was bad. so he did it for awhile then it stopped. now i am fucked up in bed. i like it crazy. but deep down i don’t enjoy sex. it doesn’t feel good to me. but rather i enjoy the act of taking each others clothes and being bad. maybe thats my problem i enjoy being bad. but i know thats not it because i’ve never stolen anything in my life ha.

so what is it? why do you hate yourself so much that you want to die? i’m coo coo thats for damn sure. what i really need is to be locked up in a hospital so i don’t hurt anyone else. but hospitals give me horrible anxiety and the shrinks are just snitches with degrees and nice clothing. wolves in sheep clothing thats all they are. one of my shrinks wanted to send me to rehab. another one was turning me against my family, he sucked. if i ever go to a mental house i will definitely kill myself. or i will turn into all the people there. sometimes i feel like i belong there though because i don’t feel much of anything anymore just sadness. i am crazy on the outside but i am a normal moody 20 year old.

maybe i should do something bad so i can go to jail the rest of my life and be a loser. then piss off some lady named dorris and have her shank me with a plastic fork. yeah i’ve thought about that path can you tell? ‘damn’ you must be thinking. ‘what the fuck is wrong this girl’. i have no fucking idea and i wish i did.

my mom was such an amazing parent to me and i didn’t fucking deserve any of it. i don’t deserve it. i don’t deserve all the love that is given to me. at all. i don’t deserve anything, thinking these thoughts. i wake up and cry because i still exist. i cry because i hate myself. i cry because i’m so fucking worthless. i am such a piece of shit and i know it. i have more fucking issues than vogue. if i don’t kill myself now i will eventually do it. before i start to get wrinkles joint pain and go deaf i will.

i’m so fucking selfish to think these thoughts and praying to die when my mom is fighting for her life. she might have cancer again and she does not deserve this sentence. i am selfish for wishing i had it so i could die and finally leave this ugly universe. and all she wants to do is live. then i really hate myself for that and the cycle continues. and its like this everyday. i don’t know what to do anymore with myself i am so far lost i am beyond wandering or exploring. i am about to jump into the deep end and i will not know if i will make it out this time. i only stay alive for the sake of those around me unfortunately.

[katierosefun]

Crying cause I TOO THINK HE WOULD LEAVE HIM GROCERIES. I'm so emotional, like we Know these characters, we know how they would act in this situation. You're right, they probably didn't talk all that much during that week or if they talked it would probably be about The Plan. But yeah, yes, he wouldn't leave him on his own, he would try to take care of him while still keeping some distance so he could process things too.

WHICH REMINDS ME!

God, you remember that scene where Dongsik is with his mum? Before he texts Juwon to go for lunch. He's talking to his mum and it seems like he's quoting his conversation with Juwon to her. It sounds like these are his words or his mum's but some of it don't make sense being said by him, or by his mum even.

"You shouldn't get hurt anymore."

"You shouldn't be broken like this."(the translation I saw says "you shouldn't be broken like Me" which makes me think this is Dongsik's reply to what Juwon says)

"Please give me some more time/wait a little bit more, I will do... whatever it takes to catch him."

And I'm just left in pain cause they probably had this conversation during that rain scene or if we go by the alternative translation, during that week. And the mental image of them having this convo, like "I'll do it, you don't have to ruin yourself anymore" and "no don't ruin yourself like I did", like how can I be normal about them?

(Also sorry if I'm spamming too much just let me know when it becomes annoying)

(you're so fine anon, i like talking about beyond evil so you're all good!)

and also, just . . . i do always think about how beyond evil is a show that really clings onto the significant conversations and how it very clearly haunts dong sik throughout especially the second half of the show without necessarily making it that explicit. (ie. i feel like a lot of kdramas rely heavily on flashbacks, and while beyond evil certainly has flashbacks, it's never done to the exhausting degree that i've seen with other shows. you just can tell from what's spoken/what's not spoken what each character is remembering.)

and also, just on the topic of ruin--i think one of the other elements of joo won and dong sik's relationship that just draws so many people in (myself included) is just like . . . how dong sik's very concerned with making sure not to drag other people into his painful gravity. this whole question of who's ruined on top of will you ruin yourself too is something that often haunt the relationships of people who struggle with internal and external issues. there's this idea of i'm hurt/have been hurting already, please don't get into my mess and it just makes me sad for dong sik, but the beauty of dong sik and joo won's relationship is that joo won--because he's a stubborn, temperamental fool who literally goes tunnel vision-y when he sets his mind to something--still sticks around because that's just who he is. (and it's not just because of how his family's implicated in the matter too, i think. i think joo won always had that seed of wanting to help dong sik somehow, as we saw in how joo won just barges into dong sik's home at the end of episode eight.)

[tommybaholland]

may I have some hcs for how noya, suga, suna, and maybe??? tsuki (I didn't see him in your list of characters you currently write for, so I wasn't sure if you would write for him if I requested him, so I understand if you don't) react to their s/o who's in a sports team (in high school if possible unless you prefer to age them up I understand!) too (I'm not specifying/choosing so other readers can feel included!) injuring their knee during practice, but not taking it seriously and they just limp around everywhere instead of going to the doctor or trying to do something to feel better. I went too hard on badminton practice yesterday and I literally cannot bend, or put weight on my knee right now so I'm just limping around cause I'm too scared to ask my mom if she can take me to the hospital sjjjdjshs. Don't be like me pls🧍‍♀️as someone who's injured several muscles over 2 times I am begging to take this seriously if you ever get injured, I hope you're taking care of yourself!! :))

when their s/o tries to hide an injury

featuring: nishinoya, sugawara, and suna

yes, unfortunately, i don’t write for tsukki right now, but here are the other three :) i’ll let the writing do the talking, but take it easy and i hope you feel better soon! 

nishinoya

he’s probably the least observant and that doesn’t mean he can’t take a hint when something’s wrong with you

but he usually doesn’t find out about it until after something happens 

you two have quite the playful relationship and are no strangers to playing fighting or jumping onto each other

one day at school, he snuck up behind you to hop onto your back as he often did 

and normally you wouldn’t mind and can handle it because he’s as light as a feather 

but today your back didn’t take it so well as you let out a strained gasped at feeling his weight put pressure onto it 

“hey, my beautiful, sweet, gorgeous-- hey, are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you knew you were going to have to have this conversation with him eventually but of course, you were too late

you wince as you try to stand up straight again, explaining that your back was already hurting from practice

“oh, well, then you should probably go see the nurse. can’t have you hurting, gorgeous.”

you promise him that it’s okay and you probably just need to stretch it out later

he hesitantly accepts your answer, but worries about you all-day long

it makes him usually quiet 

so he decides that he can’t let you tolerate your pain

on your way to the gym after school for practice, you find him waiting outside 

“you can’t practice today, babe.”

you actually get a little annoyed at him for trying to tell you what you can and can’t do

“oh, you’re fine? okay, then-- oops, i dropped my pen. can you pick it up for me? it’s closer to you.”

you knew where this was going 

but your back said otherwise and you barely hinged forward before it felt like someone was literally stabbing you in the back

“see? you can barely bend over. i’m taking you to the nurse or a doctor or something so you can get better.”

he grabs your hand and starts leading you away when you stop and ask him about your practice and volleyball

“i talked to the coach before you got here and they agree with me. i can miss one day of practice. the rest of them would probably do the same for their s/o and besides most of them still suck at receiving so they can practice that and serving at the same time!”

you still don’t look convinced so he brings you closer to him by tugging lightly on the bottom of your school uniform

“don’t worry, beautiful. i got it all sorted out, okay?” 

you finally nod and he seals his promise with a small kiss 

“listen, you’re my strong, beautiful, gorgeous, smart s/o and i love you! i’ll try to pay more attention to you but i need you to let me know when you’re hurting..”

he couldn’t let you get away with a small scolding bc his oblivious ass loves you too much 

sugawara

he observes but tries not to make a big deal out of it or bring it up in a confrontational way 

you had a slight limp on the way to school and on the way home with him after both of your practices finished

he invited you over to hang out for a bit before your curfew and he notices that you struggled a little to sit down next to him on his bed like you were in pain

“sugar, are you alright?” he asked, his hand rubbing across your back

you tell him you’re fine

“okay...are you sure? i’m pretty sure you’ve been limping this entire day and just now it looked like it hurt to sit down.”

you admit that your hip has been bothering you ever since practice the day before and you thought it would just get better over time 

“well, how bad is the pain?”

it’s not too bad, you think

he has you lay down and he tries to examine you a bit himself

“does it hurt when i lift your leg like this?”

he slowly tries to lift it to a ninety-degree angle but a sharp pain shoots right into your hip 

you wince and tense up at the pain 

he frowns as he immediately puts your leg down, “it’s only your hip, right? your knee doesn’t hurt or anything?”

you shake your head, still tense from the pain that it’s causing you 

he lays down next to you, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you arm, “aww, i’m sorry it hurts so much, sweetness, but-- wait, you didn’t go to practice like this did you?  

well, the karma was certainly hitting

he sighs, “babe, why would you-- never mind, i think you need to go see the doctor.”

that’s when the tears start to fall

he pulls you into his arms upon seeing your tears, “i know you don’t wanna go, sweetheart, but you need to get this checked out. i just hate seeing you in so much pain and they can help you feel better.” 

you hate the doctor

it just makes you just feel like more of a helpless burden 

“you’re not a burden, sugar. this looks serious and you shouldn’t be in so much pain. i don’t think we should let it go any longer so let’s get you bundled up in some of my sweatpants and that one sweater you like. i’ll take you and be there for you the entire time, okay?” 

gives you a few reassuring kisses and lets you lay there with him for a bit longer before you get ready to go

he would never let his sweet s/o suffer and always stays true to his word 

and you bet that he’ll be there when you’re confined to bed rest, making sure you’re not overexerting yourself so he can see your beautiful smile again

suna

he’s the most observant out of these three and won’t hesitate to ask about it

he didn’t see you much during the day at school but he walked you home almost every day after practice and usually ended up staying for dinner

so he always had that to look forward to

he was surprised when he got a glance of you outside the gym earlier than normal 

and he really got curious when he saw how off-balanced and wobbly you seemed

you waited outside for him, not wanting to interrupt practice 

you had skipped your own practice that day, seeing that nobody knew you had hurt your knee 

but you knew suna would find out eventually so you were just trying to figure out what to tell him 

“hey, so when were you going to tell me that you’re hurt?”

he was so quiet and stealthy that you didn’t even notice him standing there with all his stuff, ready to leave for the day

he was never less than confrontational

“and don’t try to hide it from me, babe. i can see the limp in your step.”

your knee has been hurting since practice the other day and it wasn’t getting any better

“i see. have you tried icing it or anything?”

the habitual blank expression in his face had turned downward as you shook your head

“baby, how many times do i have to tell you? you can’t just let things like this go. it’s not good for you.” 

you tell him not to tell your parents or make you go to the doctor because it doesn’t hurt that bad

“of course. i can’t make you do anything, but let’s at least try putting some ice on it and elevating it first, okay?” 

you agree and then he tries to pick you up, insisting on carrying you all the way home 

“babe, i can do it. i’ve got a strong core, remember?”

you’re still refusing him like, ‘pls chill, i’m not dying’

“okay, but hold onto me when you need. and here, do you want to wear this? it’s a bit cold out.”

he gives you his team jacket to wear 

you begin walking and you realize you’re more unsteady than you thought

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, and has you wrap an arm around his shoulders so he can steady you a little more

once you get to his house, he gets you all set up in his bed with ice and your leg propped up on a few pillows 

then he makes sure you’re all cozy with plenty of blankets and him snuggled up beside you

he doesn’t look like it but he loves to dote on you even when you’re being stubborn <3

hold on haikyuu night!! there’s more if you want to request..

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

-----------------------------

Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

-----------------------------

“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

-----------------------------

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

-----------------------------

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

-----------------------------

Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

[choicesarehard]

I keep my streams about Wolf Bride light-hearted. It’s been a hell of a year, and I think we all need a space where we can laugh together. But part of responsibly consuming problematic media is being aware of where it fails. And that’s why I think it’s important to talk about Morgan, and Wolf Bride’s troubling depiction of blindness. 

Morgan is one of the first Love Interests in Choices to have a canon disability. She is representation many players with disabilities, like myself, are eager for. But like any form of representation, writing a blind character requires research. A quick google search will lead you to numerous visually impaired voices who outline the tropes and stereotypes that harm their community. Wolf Bride has included nearly all of them. 

signal boosts are appreciated

Not All Blind People Wear Sunglasses

Morgan is shown wearing dark sunglasses from the moment she appears on screen. And there are certainly blind people who wear sunglasses — particularly those who (unlike Morgan) can still perceive some degree of light and dark, and experience painful light sensitivity. But no context is ever giving for Morgan’s use of sunglasses. In fact, they aren’t even addressed for four chapters. 

[ID: Two screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box over a forest background, and reads “You glance at Morgan, and are surprised to see the dark glasses still covering her eyes.” The second features a labeled image of her sunglasses, placed over a black background, with a selectable button that reads “What does Morgan look like without these?”] What follows is a scene Pixelberry could have used to provide insight into an assistive device the sighted community may not be entirely familiar with. They could have touched on degrees of visual impairment, or why some blind individuals need dark lenses while others don’t. They could even have explained that for some individuals with visual impairments, dark lenses make tasks like reading or navigating dimly lit spaces harder.  Instead, and far more troublingly, MC is given the option to ask Morgan not to wear them anymore. And depending on your choice, the book is coded to remove the sunglasses from her sprite in future scenes. This reduces an assistive device to a fashion choice, something our MC can wish away if they don’t find it attractive. And that isn’t okay. 

Unusual Eyes

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a forest background that reads “With a start, you realize her pale eyes aren’t looking at you, aren’t seeing you, aren’t seeing anything.” The second features Morgan’s sad sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “...I’ve been blind since birth.”] Morgan has a customizable sprite. But regardless of the ethnicity you select for her, she is depicted with pale blue eyes. And that troubles me. Because the stereotype that all blind individuals have cloudy, distorted, or unusual eyes is pervasive and harmful. 

Even when it isn’t tied to another harmful trope — the blind character as mystical seer or psychic — this stereotype create an expectation that blindness is something that always manifests in a visible way. And for millions of blind individuals, that isn’t the case. 

And while cataracts, trauma to the eye, and corneal infections can all cause the clouded effect most of us recognize from media, none turn your brown eyes into blue.  Heightened Senses

Another common stereotype in media is the blind character who’s remaining senses have become heightened as a compensatory mechanism, often to a supernatural degree.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features Morgan’s surprised sprite in a forest setting and a text box that reads “I guess I sort of...feel things. Like the place on my cheek where the branch blocked the wind.” The second features Morgan’s neutral sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “I can smell the dew on the leaves, and the moss on the bark. Can’t you?] Individuals with visual impairment may learn to rely on their other senses to navigate the world around them. But they do not suddenly gain the ability to sense the location of a branch based on wind patterns, or to accurately throw a dart at a carnival game ballon based on its smell. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a carnival background that reads “Pop! Pop! Pop! Three darts fly through the air, striking their targets.” The second features the white MC with straight blonde hair. Her sprite is surprised, and beneath it is a text box that reads “So you did that by smell, too?]

This trope may seem harmless — after all, it gave us Daredevil, a beloved blind superhero — but it contributes to the unachievable expectations we often place on real-world individuals with visually impairments. And that isn’t fair. 

Of course, we all suspected Morgan’s abilities were due to something other than heightened senses. And that in and of itself is a problem. 

Magical / Supernatural Abilities

To the surprise of no one, Morgan exhibits these unusual abilities because she is a werewolf. But choosing to give a blind character magical abilities should only be done after asking yourself some challenging questions. As visually-impaired Tumblr user @mimzy-writing-online explains:

Your blind characters don’t need a magical ability that negates their blindness. [Ask yourself why it’s so important to you to give them one]. If it’s because they can’t do all the things you want them to do without it, then should you really have written them as blind in the first place? 

And that’s the thing. Morgan isn’t actually written as a blind character, not when it counts. Morgan shoots bullets with accuracy, runs through unfamiliar terrain, and navigates moving objects with ease. She doesn’t use common assistive devices like canes or screen readers. Her sunglasses are discarded at MC’s request. The scientific papers that fill her research facility are not digitized for accessibility or written in braille. 

Even her dreams, which should be reflections of how she perceives reality, look identical to Bastien's — which makes no sense for someone who has been canonically blind since birth. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapters Five and Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a scene from Morgan’s lucid dream. Set in a glamorous hotel, it includes visual details like twinkling lights, and patterned carpets. The color is tinted a grey-blue and the exposure on the image has been increased to an unnatural level. The second features a scene from Bastien’s lucid dream. Set in a forest, it shares the same tinted and over-exposed qualities as the first.]

Her blindness isn’t an integral part of her character. Instead, it’s a narrative device, paraded in front of the reader when it can further a central — and deeply disturbing — plot point. [content warning: discussion of discrimination and child abuse / abandonment ahead]  Morgan Was Left to Die Because She Was Blind 

And Jesus, what a plot point it is. In Chapter 11, we learn that Morgan was left to die in the woods because she was born “wrong, sickly, blind.” But the only canonical disability or illness she is ever shown to have is her blindness. 

[ID: Three side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first two feature the white MC with straight blonde hair’s shocked sprite in front of a forest background. The first text box reads “I don’t understand...” followed by two dialogue options “Why was Morgan abandoned?” and “Is that what you do to full moon babies? Kill them?” The second panel’s read box reads “Just because she was blind?” The third panel features  the old woman Noemi’s sad sprite, placed over a forest background. Her text box reads “If we know an infant will not survive, it is best to let it die quickly.”]

I...am frankly having a hard time thinking through the screenshot-induced fury to make a coherent argument here. To imply that blindness is an impairment so limiting that death is the only foreseeable outcome? That being born blind somehow makes a child “wrong”? The ignorance and prejudice shown in this scene is staggering. 

But equally troubling is the response of the main characters to this revelation. Yes, in fiction, bad people sometimes do bad things. But Noemi isn’t shown to be a bad person. Neither is Bastien, who knew what his pack had been guilty of in the past, and even seeks to justify it to a limited degree. 

Most shockingly, Morgan herself, who in the second screenshot below has just overheard that she was left to die as an infant because she is blind, isn’t angry or upset. She’s almost apologetic, still seeking a place within the pack. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first features Hispanic Bastien’s sad sprite in front of a forest background. The text box beneath him reads “It doesn’t happen often, Clara, but...” The second features white Morgan’s sad sprite in front of the same forest background. The text box beneath her reads “I didn’t mean any harm. Especially after...what I just overheard.”]

By introducing the idea that a child born blind cannot survive, let alone thrive, without superhuman abilities, and then failing to soundly and thoroughly refute that idea through the characters we identify with, Pixelberry is unintentionally perpetuating the same false beliefs that have led to real-world instances of infanticide for centuries. And that isn’t okay. 

I don’t know where Pixelberry will go with the story from here. Perhaps in today’s chapter some of these concerns have been addressed...but I doubt it. In the meantime, I’ve also written to their support staff to express my deep concern and disappointment in the treatment of Morgan’s character. And I’d encourage you to do the same. 

Will I continue to keep streaming Wolf Bride? For now, yes. My VIP subscription is already paid for, and frankly, I want to see Morgan’s arc through. I guess the small part of me that was excited for the representation is still hopeful the narrative can be corrected. 

But I’ll be adding a content warning at the start of each stream for ablism, and that’s something I never thought I’d have to do.  Screenshots courtesy of CrimsonFeatherGames on Youtube

[novamirmirsblog]

I am not a woman, I'm a God (17+)

If I can't have love I want power pt 2

If I can't have love masterlist

Word Count: 1640

Genre: dark I guess?

Request: no

Warnings: none? (atm anyways)

A/N: I'm not too happy with this chapter so it's subject to change BUT the next couple chapters should pick things up a little :3 OH and the next chapter might contain smut (Idk yet - I'll try to edit this when I've written the next chapter)

1737 - The middle

The revenge was sweet and drawn out. The redhead and her long-time friend had made sure of that. They let you finish the duke off but not before they had their fun. The two women were gorgeous, both with red hair that would make any woman jealous. The green-eyed woman had hair like a wildfire and the blue-eyed woman had hair the colour of a deep red sunset. Liking women was wrong but you weren’t sure these two counted as women – they certainly weren’t human. Wanda, the one with sunset hair, tortured your husband mentally, angry whisps the same colour as Natasha’s hair crawled in through his ears and buried themselves deep within his brain. While this was happening, Natasha was peeling layer after layer of skin off him with her razor-sharp nails. You weren’t sure if you could even call them nails – not when they looked so much more like claws. While Wanda was exploiting your husband’s deepest darkest fears, Natasha was calmly explaining to you which tools to use where so you could cause the most pain. Apparently pain and torture was an aphrodisiac for them because the two demons decided to show you what you had been missing out on due to your husband’s lack of skill.

That was almost 200 years ago. Wanda and Natasha had given you great gifts, allowing you to have a much longer life, giving you cat-like reflexes and godlike powers. Perhaps your favourite was the enhancements they gave to your voice. People were suddenly compelled to do whatever you suggested they do and the rush it gave you was unexplainable. These gifts were not free however and yet the price was one you willingly paid repeatedly. Especially because it meant spending extra time with your two favourite demons. You were there to cause chaos and have fun which was ironic considering Wanda was a chaos demon and Natasha was a succubus but perhaps that’s why you did what you did. Perhaps it was because you were made by them and therefore must serve them in every way imaginable.

~~~~~

You had watched your siblings grow from afar and made sure every single villager who ever even looked at them wrong suffered. When you were with Wanda and Natasha, it felt as if everything just fit into place. It was strange and you felt as if you shouldn’t miss them – they killed and tortured your husband in front of you, gave you gifts that meant you couldn’t live a normal life and coerced you into sex that you weren’t sure you wanted; yet you still wanted them.

Your story was told countless times and the more times it was told, the deeper the truth was twisted into a legend, a tale mothers told their children to keep them away from the forests late at night. You were turned into a martyr, a victim of the horrible cruelties the evil creatures of the world could bestow onto innocent girls.

You were anything but.

If the storytellers could see you now, they would burn all mentions of your story. You were a problem child, a bad example and you had two of the most powerful demons wrapped around your little finger.

A few years ago, you had mentioned to Natasha and Wanda one evening that you were bored. That’s how you found yourself currently being shot at.

“Natty I’m bored.” You whined, throwing yourself dramatically over the bed. History was going through a dry spell; people weren’t doing anything interesting and there weren’t enough opportunities for you to wreak havoc.

“Natty” Wanda mocked “Our princess is bored.”

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Natasha moved to hover over you, Wanda placed your head in her lap. Natasha’s tail flicked with a cat-like manner before it slithered between your legs.

You grabbed her tail and she let out a moan “Not now Natasha. I’m serious. If I knew living forever was going to be this boring, then I wouldn’t have done it.” That wasn’t quite true, you enjoyed being theirs to use but you were getting restless.

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning up to kiss Wanda instead. You waited a few moments for the two demons to stop their make-out session, but it didn’t look to be ending any time soon. You rolled out from underneath Natasha and untangled Wanda’s fingers from where she was massaging your scalp.

“Awe come back baby.” Wanda broke the kiss and made grabby arms at you. For a supposed demon, she sure was soft. “I promise we’ll make things more fun.”

Natasha rolled her eyes again “You’ve gone soft Wands.” Although Natasha huffed and puffed about how ‘soft’ Wanda had gotten, she seemed to have a slightly less hardened heart when she looked at you.

You were no longer bored but you were being shot at and while it couldn’t kill you, it sure did sting. Perhaps going after Dick Turpin’s loot was a bad idea but what can you say? You wanted to live a little. All you had wanted was a pretty horse you had seen him steal but nooo – he had to keep them all for himself. You had managed to escape Mr Turpin himself but one of his lackeys just wouldn’t give up. Rather than continuing to run, you decided you may as well get a quick meal.

“Hello darling.” Your voice echoed from all around, you watched as the man trying to kill you frantically whipped his head around.

“Who are you? Come out now!”

You let out a low, predatory chuckle.

“I’m the poor little martyr in all your stories.”

“No. You can’t be- that’s impossible! You should be dead!” You watched as the man continued to spin around and around in circles, watching him trip before revealing yourself.

“I am ancient. I have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen kings and queens and holy men enter the world and I have seen them leave; and yet I am nowhere near as old or as powerful as the women who made me the person I am today. While I watched preestablished civilisations crumble, they were reminiscing the time they created them, all while burning them to the ground. Some call me the end but they are mistaken. They are the end. I am your warning. I am the only kindness they will show you. Trivial things such as death do not concern me.” As you finished your speech, Natasha and Wanda’s comforting aura surrounded you, the dark mist embracing you before forming the two women.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun now could we dove?” Natasha’s voice rumbled out against your neck, biting it lightly.

“You have to share.” Wanda cooed, lifting your chin up to face her as she captured your lips with hers.

The idiot who you were about to kill and feed on decided now was a good time to make their escape. Luckily, Wanda had other plans as her red magic bought the squirming meal back to you.

“Go away. I want to eat. It’s been so long.” You pouted, making your way back to your meal. It was a little annoying that to continue living in your young body that you had to drain the soul from another person, but it was worth it.

“But if we leave then who’s going to do all the heavy lifting?”

“And who will dig the hole in your garden?”

“Or put the body in the hole?”

“Or-”

“Okay! I get it. Fine. But just hush, okay? I like to eat in peace.” You grabbed the man and kissed him hard, feeling his soul merge with yours before it was consumed by the darkness.

“I don’t know why you always have to kiss them to feed” Natasha bit out, moving away from you with Wanda, voicing her unhappiness at you kissing someone else when only she should be kissing you- her and maybe Wanda.

“Well, it wasn’t me who made her feed that way.” Wanda whispered back

“Are you suggesting this is my fault?” Natasha’s voice got low and dangerous, and you felt the forest drop about 10 degrees.

“Well that’s how you feed isn’t it?” Wanda’s eyes glowed and a wind picked up.

You pulled away from your meal, the faint glow of his soul swirling around your mouth and eyes. “Want to share?” The forest rose back to its original temperature and climate as Natasha kissed you, absorbing small remnants of the soul. Wanda wrapped one arm around your waist while the other snaked up to your neck, her teeth lightly biting and sucking along your shoulders.

“I think you forget dove” Natasha broke the kiss to growl at you

“We’re in charge here. If we wanted to share, then we would share.” Wanda finished off for her.

It dawned on you that perhaps this was about more than just the meal. They were jealous.

“Are you two jealous?” You laughed, not at the situation but at their reactions. Wanda bit you harder and Natasha just glared at you.

“Of course not. Why would we be jealous of some silly insignificant dum-”

“Baby…” You reached up and placed one hand lightly on Wanda’s horn and the other on Natasha’s cheek, effectively stopping Natasha’s rant about how unjealous they are. Wanda moved from where she was standing behind you to stand next to Natasha. “You both know that if I could live off Demon energy then I would, but I can’t.”

Natasha and Wanda shared a look, having a silent conversation in the space of seconds before turning their attention back to you. “That’s not necessarily true love.” Wanda said.

“It will be painful but…well demons aren’t born. They’re made.” Natasha explained.

“And if you wanted to…”

You didn’t even hesitate before giving your answer. “Yes.”

Taglist:

@lucydiibi

[petri808]

Quarantine memories fic hoarding craze for @thenaluarchive

— thank you to @phoenix-before-the-flame for helping jump start this fic 💜

It was Natsu Dragneel’s absolute favorite time of the day. 1 pm for him, and 8 am for Lucy, his… well, right now they were just online friends separated by distance and priorities. But judging by how he talked about her to friends, you’d never know it. They’d met three years ago on Twitch through a random chat stream about an anime series, and he continued following Lucy on her writing streams. Three years ago, she was a sophomore in college while he was in his senior year. Lucy later moved on to a graduate program, but they stayed in touch, growing close. To Natsu, she wasn’t just some girl online but a real friend he cared very much about. His friends called Lucy his online girlfriend. Pfft. He wished he could call her that.

Roughly two thousand miles away, Lucy Heartfilia was hating life. Her curtains were drawn, and a blanket was pulled over her head to drown out the light. The air conditioner was down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, working against the low-grade fever and pounding migraine born yesterday. Migraines… the bane of her otherwise healthy existence. It was her fault after all, the temptation of a chocolate dessert knowing full well it was one of her triggers brought on said migraine and all she could do was bear it.

Why?

“Stupid hoarders!” Lucy groaned to herself.

As if dealing with a pandemic wasn’t bad enough, people’s selfish reactions to it were worse. A government agency had claimed that acetaminophen products could help with the virus’s symptoms, so what did people do? Panic buying anything and everything they could find containing that drug! The problem for people like Lucy, is the one over the counter medication that helped with her migraines was Excedrine… an acetaminophen product! And she’d just. run. out.

Lucy’s phone rang and she knew exactly who it could be based on the time. So, she clicked the answer button without opening her eyes.

“Hey, Natsu,” she groaned out.

“Morning Lucy! Oh geez, you sound like a frog.”

“Thanks,” she retorted sarcastically. “I’ve got a migraine.”

“Ouch.” Natsu genuinely flinched. He rarely got headaches, but this wasn’t the first time he’d talked to Lucy when she was going through one, so he knew what she was going through. “The meds aren’t helping?”

Lucy sighed. “I ran out. And did you see the news about all the hoarding? Every store here is bought out. It… sucks.”

“I could check around here and send you any I find,” he offered.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you Natsu, but I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Pfft. Nonsense. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks, Natsu. I appreciate it.” Lucy smiled through the pain. There’s a good reason her feelings for the man had grown over the years. His sweet and caring, yet fun and goofy, positive personality was an easy drug to get hooked to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to work.” Natsu whined. “Good morning again, stay hydrated, and I’ll check on you again when I’m finished for the day, okay Lucy? Get some rest.”

“Have a good day at work Natsu.”

“Will now, after hearing your voice. Talk to you later Luce.”

She giggled softly. “Bye, Natsu.”

Lucy shifted under her blanket as she clicked off the phone to lie on her back. His sexy voice did wonders for her mood despite the pain still ravaging it. Now all she had to do was drag herself out of bed to eat something and drink water. She never had an appetite when she got these migraines, but it was a necessary fuel to fight it. All Lucy had left were extra strength Tylenol, so she could only hope it would at least take the edge off until the migraine ran its course.

Like so many others, this pandemic had really taken a toll on Lucy’s psyche. It’s not as if she went out a lot before it took hold, but just the fact it made going out dangerous brought different emotions to the situation. School had moved online which sucked all its own, she missed casually hanging out with friends on campus, and simply longed for the freedom of leaving her apartment as she pleased. But she understood the precautions of a quarantine. Frankly, she agreed with the city’s efforts to keep them as safe as possible no matter how many grumbled about it. Did it make it easier? No. But it was a necessary evil.

They weren’t completely trapped, could shop for necessities, visit family or friends, just encouraged to limit such gatherings as a safety precaution. If you went out, wear a mask, and just don’t stand too close to other people. Well, unless Lucy knew the person, why would she want strangers in her personal bubble anyway? And the mask thing? Have you ever been out shopping, and someone just sneezes without covering their mouth? Yeah— seriously, would it kill people to use one?! Why were people so selfish during times like this? Not everyone, but too many. Just like with all the hoarding frenzies that swept through cities, it was frustrating and— “Ugh…” being in a pain-driven bad mood was sure bringing her down today.

But despite all the external frustrations, the feelings of isolation from being in a quarantine for months were probably the most mentally exhausting part. It was lonely being so far away from home during a pandemic. Lucy’s been in college for five years and while she’s made friends in the new city, she was starting to crave comfort instead of an empty apartment. Her life online was one of the few things that made her happy, like Natsu’s daily calls, and kept her sane.

Natsu… her face heated up every time she thought about the man. They didn’t have a lot of hobbies in common, but he was always so supportive and made her laugh like no other could. Where they lacked in commonality, was made up in ease of conversation. It hadn’t taken very long for their online chats to feel more like an old friend and less like a faceless stranger. Over the years they’d talked about meeting in person one day after she finished school. It also helped that he was from a city not too far from where she came from, so if she chose to move back it would be convenient. But she also loved the new city she called home. Oh well, Lucy sighed. It was a decision still a couple of years away to make.

The next morning, Lucy woke up to find her migraine had finally given up. She could still feel the little bastard hiding, simmering somewhere ready to strike, but if it stayed mellow, it was something she could tolerate. Throughout the day, Lucy wasted no time in catching up on the homework she couldn’t finish the day before and making sure to stay hydrated with food in her stomach.

Lucy’s phone rang around 2pm.

“Hi Natsu, how was work?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he chuckled. “And how are you? Still feeling, okay?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t come back.”

“That’s great!”

Lucy could hear a lot of background noise, so she asked about it. “Oh, you’re not home yet?”

“Nah, and the commuters are being extra noisy today,” he responded benignly. “Anyway, tonight I won’t have time to talk cause I got a project due for work I need to finish.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m still catching up from yesterday too and Levy’s dropping by for dinner.”

They chat for a few minutes about their day as Natsu waited for transportation. Lucy knew he used the subway to and from work, but today it sounded a little different, noisier and she swore there were engines instead of the normal train sounds. Maybe it was static. Finally, Lucy caught the muffled words now boarding.

“Shucks, time for me to go,” Natsu cut through. “Sweet dreams Lucy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Natsu!”

Lucy spent the afternoon relaxing online, chatting with friends and gaming. Her friend Levy McGarden later dropped by with take-out food for dinner and the two women caught up on random topics while movies droned on the television. They were both in grad school, so during the semester there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out, but they made do. Lucy was also doing a paid internship at a local magazine 4 days out of the week as part of her master’s program. She really enjoyed working there under one of the senior editors. He made it a fun learning experience.

Life was almost perfect except for the background isolation of the pandemic. Lucy was glad she wasn’t one of the individuals affected by jobs cuts, but it still got under her skin to feel trapped in a way. It was nice with her friend over... ‘Maybe I should see if Levy wants to become roommates?’ She wondered as she drifted off to sleep. The apartment would sure feel a lot less empty.

A knock at the door roused Lucy from her sleep. She blinked and yawned, looking at the alarm clock and that said 9 am the next morning. ‘Natsu didn’t call,’ she thought how odd. Maybe he slept in after working late.

Lucy dragged herself out of bed, throwing on a robe to answer the front door. “Gimme a sec,” she called out as she neared it.

“UPS delivery, ma’am.” The male voice responded.

‘UPS?’ Lucy grew confused. She didn’t remember ordering anything through them, but maybe she’d forgotten?

She peaked out of the peep hole, but all she could see was the box being held up. Okay a little weird, but some of the delivery people did that to show they were legitimate service people. Lucy slowly opened the door but kept the chain lock on while peering through the gap. But what she saw next brought on instant tears.

“H-How?” Her voice stammered out as her fingers quickly undid the lock and opened the door wide.

There Natsu stood holding a small brown box, dressed in a uniform of sorts, with a mask hanging under his chin, and wearing a goofy grin.

Lucy snorted a laugh as her eyes crinkled in happiness. “Is that a Halloween costume?”

“Yeah,” his smile widened, and hand scratched his head. “Surprise delivery,” Natsu held out the box, “for Lucy Heartfilia.”

“What is it?” She asked as she took it from him.

“Oh, I um found you Excedrine.”

Lucy opened the box to find 4 bottles. “You certainly did,” she laughed. “But why’d you bring it yourself?”

“It was quicker than the mail and… I hoped…” Natsu’s mannerism grew sheepish and tentative, “it was about time we finally met in person?”

Her face softened with a smile. “It truly is.” Lucy gestured into the apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (09)

word count; 13,103

summary; following up a storm, there’s a crash on one of the highways, and things don’t always go as planned in rescue attempts.

notes; there is going to be some big realisations in this part. it’s angsty, but you’ll love it.

warnings; reference to death, panic attacks, car crashes, near-death experience, mild injury/gore reference.

“Holy shit..” You mumbled, staring out at the scene ahead of yourself on the intersection, Newt’s jaw dropped much like your own as you looked out at it all. Smoke curling up into the air, crushed cars and contorted metal with flames curling up. Blue sirens of other ambulances and firetrucks, the other side of the amalgamation of cars, and you stepped down from the ambulance in shock.

The call that had come over the alert ten minutes ago had been no joke, it was a true disaster, the no longer muffled wails of emergency vehicle alerts, the crying of people in pain, the workings of machinery and metal grating against metal to make you shudder in uncomfortable shock. The firetrucks of your own house pulled up next to you, the ambulance having the edge on this case as it was easier to weave through other cars along the highway, and the same look of shock was mirrored on all of their faces. 

This wasn’t the first car crash you’d dealt with, far from it, but it was certainly the worst. Police and traffic wardens were beginning to divert traffic, all the lanes with cars moving in both directions being stopped, and you planted your feet tightly to the ground and wrapped your jacket more tightly around yourself as the strong and chilling winds that had been the cause of the accident came back to claim more victims. The females roared up, only encouraged by the howling winds, and you cursed under your breath at the cold. 

An oil tanker had tipped over, blocking all of the lanes in both directions, broken fences from where it had tipped and cars had simply managed to smash into it and one another repeatedly as they tried to swerve, leaving the mixed wreckage of at least twenty cars littered across the tarmac. Bumpers, glass and framework, and there were too many pieces to began even starting to try and match them to smashed vehicles. 

Opening your door back up and hopping back up into the warmth of the ambo’ cabin, Newt ran a hand over his hair, scratching at the back of his head lightly as he sighed, gaze scanning repeatedly over the sights before him, and Brenda bumper her hips against his as she came to stand next to him. Twisting the dials on the radio, you unhooked the speaker from the set screwed into the dashboard, bringing it to your lips and listening as it crackled. 

“First responder dispatch centre, how can I help?”

“This is the paramedic of Firehouse ‘21, reporting to a call on the bridge entered-” Flicking your wrist up to take a look. “-eighteen minutes ago. Please notify all local hospitals to expect heavy patient incoming, various degrees of injury. Most likely to be expected is concussions, broken bones, burns and smoke inhalation, as well as various lacerations and punctures.”

“Noted, and the local hospitals will be informed. Thank you for your call.” The buzzing across the radios returned, static to fill the space as the call came to an end, and you hooked the material back up. Reaching backwards and behind your chair, you fished around for your bag, snatching it up in one hand and taking Newt’s with you, the man having paced away to stand with groups of firemen as they waited for their instructions. 

This was yet another call that Vince would take control off, ready to discuss a plan with the other house Chiefs to come up with a plan of action, divide and conquer the scene before you all, everybody coming at it from another angle to handle it. Slamming the door shut and wrapping your arms around yourself tightly once again to shield yourself from the cold. Stepping along towards your partner, your cheeks were already beginning to sting from the low temperature, and you came to stand before him, handing him his bag.

“Thanks.” He took the pack from you, hanging it on his shoulder, just with one strap, and tucking his hands securely into his pockets, bunched up in fists for warmth. “You call it in?”

“Notified all hospitals in the area, and gave them a vague list of injuries to expect.”

“Good call.” He mumbled, and you tried to tune into the chatter you were hearing. From what you could gather, the Chiefs had all divided up the area into sections, a certain number of cars and rescues to make. 

Three other teams on sight, one would deal solely with the tanker, neutralising oil and saving the driver from the cabin while making sure that the punctured and leaking tanker never met fire; arguably the most pressured job of them all as they struggled to fight off the looming explosion. The second and third team would split the cars on the other side, the morning rush who had all been heading into the city leaving far more casualties than those on your side who’d been heading the opposite way, and you would be left to deal with those on this side of the overturned tanker that was covering the entirety of the highway. 

There was so much commotion and noise that you couldn’t even hear the racing of the waters underneath, despite the crushing strength of the icy water running under the bridge below your feet, the rumbling of it normally audible when it was this chaotic, right after a storm had hit, but it was overpowered today. You shook again, the chilling temperatures making everything that much more difficult, the knuckles in your fingers already beginning to go stiff with the cold weather. 

“Alright, team. Listen up.” Your head snapped up as Vince spoke, his hands clapping together, rubbing for warmth before they were tucked back inside of his pockets, and you envied the heavy-duty jacket he already had on. “We have everything to the left of the overturned tanker. We are not - under any circumstances - to venture out of our zone. There is spilt oil, fires, and a lot of jagged metal. I don’t want to hear anyone telling other teams what to do.” He shot a pointed look to Gally, he scowled a little, everyone else chuckling and you supposed there was a story that you had yet to hear. 

Vince continued on, commanding the firemen, but you and Newt were able to tune out as you were left to your own devices, the two of you turning in unison to explore the area with your gazes. There weren’t as many cars to be attended to as you suspected there were on the other sides, but it was still over ten, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as you tried to establish where to start. There were groans of pain, calls for help, and your fingers wrapped around your bag handle as you gripped on and tried to steady your thoughts.

The most concerning of it all was the van on the edge of the bridge. Clearly spun out, the side was dented and scraped from the collision. The barricades on either side of the van were missing, torn and unstable as one of the front wheels hung over the edge, but it seemed reasonably stable, no wobble or shake to it, even with the howling winds. 

“You wanna’ take that one?”

“Oh, no, that’s a treat for you.” You smirked, turning to look at Newt, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his fist and raising his brows. Matching his pose, you twisted to face him more fully, your fist landing on an open palm. “I can’t read you anymore. You used to suck at this game.”

“I have tactical skills now. It’s all about logic. I’m basically a Vulcan.”

“You’re basically a nerd.” You teased, and he scoffed, his good foot swinging up to kick you lightly enough in your shin that it didn’t hurt, but it still made you tremble as you tried to avoid it. He moved again, stepping towards you, and you shoved at his shoulder as you backed away. “Cut it out! I take it back!”

“Yeah, you better. Just for that, you’re taking the van!”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” You demanded, and he shook his head, turning his back on you and wandering away towards the car closest to himself, and you gaped at him a little, before turning back to analyse the van. It would no doubt need to be stabilised, and yet it was barely over the edge, but it was still concerning, and as you peered inside, you could pick up no movement, finding that there was an unconscious driver inside, if not unconscious passengers, too.

Turning back to find a fireman to help you, you jumped violently in shock at finding one directly behind you, your entire body jerking as you stepped back, and a familiar and raspy chuckle met your ears, held low to hide his brief amusement in a tense situation, and you scowled flashy up at him.

“Fucking hell, don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry.” He grinned, holding up a peace offering and apology that made your eyes widen. “I brought you a coat, so you wouldn’t get cold. Might restrict your movement a bit, though.” Thomas lifted the jacket up to sit over your shoulders, and you dropped your medkit to the floor, pushing your arms through your sleeves and wrapping it up tightly around yourself. For once, with the lack of any fires near yourself, you didn’t feel so overheated by the jacket, and instead comforted by it. 

“Thanks, I was freezing, actually.” He only hummed, letting go of the lapels as you fastened it up at the front, pressing down the velcro seals but not bothering to zip it up in case you needed to remove it frequently for your venture. Grabbing your bag from the ground beside your feet again, you stood back up. He was staring at you, a soft smile on his face but there was uncertainty hidden behind it, and you hated that you were at fault for it. 

You knew he was waiting for some kind of response to his actions of only a few days ago, the sweet touch of affection he had offered you after your visit to the vet. The dog was sitting happily and warm back at the station now, probably curled up on the couch, and yet you were standing here in the cold, trying to work out what to say to the man before you. 

Your mind had been clouded these last few days, spinning with too many thoughts to process. Your job, your friends, the life you’d lived for the last half a decade as opposed to the one looking you in the eye now, and whether you were willing to let yourself open up to that change. You wanted to, you wanted to let them in and to know that you had a true place in this house, but with your track record it was hard, and you were unfamiliar with having a family so intense after years of being alone. 

“I just need to think, okay?” Reaching out a hand when his shoulders slumped, he perked up a little as his fingers curled back around yours, loosely but enough to show he appreciated the gesture, and you squeezed gently. He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and while you knew that the look in his eyes was disappointment, there was also understanding. “I need your help.”

He took a sharp breath, his hand pulling back from yours as ‘Thomas’ disappeared and ‘Lieutenant Stephens’ took over. Jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, his eyes flickered to the van, brows furrowing a little. 

“It’s my job to head into that van, and in the interest of being less reckless, I figured you’d want to hook me up to some ropes before I do.”

“The fact that you even consider going in there without any deeply concerns me, y’know.” You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head as he stepped back, but he was spinning on his heel to begin commanding his team. The Truck team were already spreading out across the space deemed to belong to your firehouse, and Newt was halfway inside of a slightly crushed car to reach a patient, while Thomas began to gather equipment and a team for the van. 

Stepping over to said vehicle as you waited, you pressed your hand to the back of the van in a feather-light touch. Skimming your fingers across the cold surface of the backdoor, your fingers hooked under the handle, pushing down on the button and pulling the warped metal out, the door swinging open. 

From what you’d been able to see through the windows along the side, there was no movement, but there was still hope to get a verbal response as you called out. The cabin remained silent, and you peered inside, finding only one person sitting within there, a driver slumped across the steering wheel, airbag deployed and beginning to deflate. You suspected lacerations and possible broken lungs, as well as a concussion and one hell of a headache when they woke up. 

Pulling back, you rounded the car, peering over the barricade over the edge of the road and swallowing thickly at the height of the drop down into the river, the waters raging below you, and you checked the sights of the engine. You were no mechanic, and you couldn't tell much from the outside, but it didn’t look like the metal had crumpled too much, meaning you wouldn't have to cut away metal around his legs to get him out, making your job a lot easier if he wasn’t trapped under an engine that had been forced into the main vehicle compartment. 

“Ready when you are!” Brenda was waving a harness at you as you turned to face her, and Minho was busy planting anchors in the ground. Enough to support you, the passenger inside, and the ropes that would be secured around the vehicle to hold it steady. The team were working quickly and efficiently, threading them through the tyres and around the van in various locations to keep it still while you crawled inside. 

Taking the bundle of fabric from her, you dropped it to the ground, beginning to become familiar with these harnesses now, and you were certain you could get it on yourself. Pulling it up after stepping one foot into each loop, you eased it up your legs, tightening it at your waist and around each thigh, making sure that the straps were secure enough to reassure you. 

“You’re going to have limited rope, alright? So, try not to get it stuck on anything, because we need a lot of these anchors, we’re going to have to stand far back and away from the cracking concrete to have any grip.

“How much rope is ‘limited rope’?”

“About three metres.” She winced, and you turned to look at the vehicle, a brow raising. 

“Bren, this van looks about three metres if not more, can’t we get a longer rope?”

“We need all the rope we have for securing the van.” You knew she was right, there was more distance to be covered there, and it as important to keep both yourself and the passenger safe and secure, but it didn’t make it any easier to navigate the carbon and be able to move when you’d be tugging on a leash with no give. “Take a harness into the van, try to secure the patient inside of it. We’re getting another rope and anchor grouping set up, by the time you tend to them, we should be ready.”

“Gotcha.”

She grinned, holding up her palm flat, and you chuckled a little, before slamming your own hand against hers. It may have been a childish gesture, but something about the silly actions of high-fiving in support of one another had relieved just a little bit of the crippling tension looming over you both in the moment, and so as you grinned to one another, it was worth it. “You got this!”

“You bet I do.” You winked, hearing her let out an encouraging cheer, before she was hanging over the spare harness to you and walking away to take the end of your rope through all of the anchors and support set up to take the weight off of her. Thomas was working on another rope, giving you a simple nod as he watched you go, approval and encouragement you were sure, before you were placing your first foot onto the metal of the van, and then a second, climbing up and into the precariously hanging vehicle.

Once you were balanced within, both feet on the wooden backing of the van, you were left to try and navigate your way through the space. It was cluttered, work tools and plywood, all strapped down for security, and you were grateful to see that at least those restraints were intact; if they’d swung forward when this van had hit the railing, there was a likelihood they would have unbalanced the van.

Setting your bag and the spare harness down on the passenger seat the driver was still strapped in, and as you took another step forward toward him, the breath was forced from your lungs, the harness pulling tight around your stomach as the rope ran out, going taut through the anchors and giving you no budge. 

“You okay in there?”

You turned back to look at Chuck, his eyes scanning over the inside of the van, bright eyes and flushed cheeks as his curls blew around his face in the breeze, and you nodded. Looking over the man before you, your fingers took his chin gently, tipping his head up to sit straight instead of at the uncomfortable angle it had fallen to lay at, and checking for a pulse in his neck. It was weak, and his breathing was shallow, but it was definitely there. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can grab a neck brace and the board from the ambo’, I don’t think this guy is waking up anytime soon.” Chuck nodded, moving away to gather the supplies you’d listed off to him, the heavy sound of his boots scuffling on the tarmac fading out as you focused on the man before you. There was a nasty graze across the side of his neck, a fleshy burn from the friction of his seatbelt against his skin, but he could simply be glad he was wearing it, because otherwise, he would have gone through the windshield. 

The airbag was going down, and you pressed onto it, the hissing of air sounding out as you pushed it to help it deflate, giving you more space to work with, and see what you were doing, trying to reach across his body as you waited for the fabric safety precaution to reside. 

His nose was bleeding and it was swelling with purple bruises under his eyes and across his cheeks, a broken nose that was bad and would need professionally resetting, but that was the only initial examination that you could do with your limited range of motion. 

Tugging a little on your rope again, and hoping it would offer a little more give, you were disappointed as it held strong, trying to work out how to get closer to the patient, to be able to properly reach him, and start examining him for the further injuries you suspected he might have.

“Okay, I got the brace and the board.” Chuck was panting slightly, lugging both pieces of equipment, the support like a surfboard under his arm as the padded brace swung in the other hand, and you chuckled. “Alright, set the board down, I’m not sure how I’ll get him into it, but you can tell Brenda we aren’t going to need the spare harness, he’s out cold. I’ll trade ya’.” He nodded, placing the board down on the ground and letting the brace follow. 

Picking up the edge of the fabric you’d left with your bag, you shifted, swinging it over your shoulder and the van rocked a little at your sudden movement, your blood running cold, but it stopped after only a moment as the ropes that the Squad team had set into place held it steady; Chuck’s eyes as wide as yours. “Maybe no more sudden movements, then?”

“I think that’s a good idea, kid.” You grinned a little, trying to reassure the young candidate despite your heart leaping into your throat with fear. “Now, pass me that neck brace, nice and gentle. Roll it cross the floor.”

He did as told, tucking the straps in carefully and pushing it down the slight slope of the van, watching as the plastic rolled unevenly across the floor before getting wedged behind the passenger seat, stuck just underneath it, but the bright yellow plastic was still partially visible. You reached, the straps around your waist restricting your movements and digging into your flesh, almost to a painful degree, and your fingers brushed over it, but you couldn't grab a hold of it. 

“God, I can’t do anything on this freakin’ leash.”

“Oh, please don’t do what I think you’re going t-” You ignored him, fingers working over the latch on the carabiner that was keeping you secure, and you felt the tension around your waist give way from the second that it was unhooked. “You terrify me, do you know that? Do you have no concept of danger?”

“There is no danger, Chuck, I’ll be fine.” Clipping the band onto one of the poles in the headrest so that you could reach it again easily, you stripped off your coat to give you more flexibility, and left it in the footwell of the seat you currently resided next to. “You guys got this van all roped up, and it’s right there. I just need to be able to move if I’m going to save this man’s life.”

You rubbed sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants to dry them off, your first call was to unzip your bag, and to locate a pair of sanitary gloves, before interacting with him at all. Once the plastic covers were sealed over your hands comfortably, you were settling into a slightly uneven passenger seat to get a better look at him. 

Ideally, you really needed the seatbelt out of the way, but in his unconscious state, doing that would probably make the man fall forwards, and so you tried to work around it. Pressing your fingers gently along his chest under the unmoving strain of a locked safety belt, you pressed for hard patches, finding none under your fingers, breathing a sigh of relief as you found no external signs of immediate internal bleeding, muscles tense but skin not having hardened up.

Moving up to his eyes, you lifted one eyelid open, finding the keyring on your bag and unhooking it, flashing the small torch across his eyes, and watching for any pupil reaction. It was fast, an immediate reaction that was impressive and reassuring, and everything about the situation with the man in the truck was looking up. He was incredibly lucky. You were progressively growing more confused, however, as to why he was so heavily unconscious when so little seemed to be wrong.

Even the nerves in his legs were twitching when given stimulus, suggesting that he didn’t even have any kind of paralysis or delayed response time. His body seemed to be handling the shock and the adrenaline exceptionally well, and he should be awake. 

Reaching under your seat, you leaned forward, finding the brace and tugging it out, brushing it off and undoing the velcro seals that Chuck had put into place as it rolled, the ripping down of the two sides separating filling the cabin. 

“Chuck, time for you to go and grab another fireman, I’m going to work out how to get him loaded up onto a board, and out to you guys.” 

“I’m on it.” He gave you a salute, an ‘aye, aye, sir’ following it, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his antics, a heart of gold in the kid for being able to find amusement in the situation. You assessed the situation, ready to try and get him out of here, so that you could follow swiftly behind him, not wanting to be caught in the metal box any longer than necessary. Once you had him out and being carried to the ambulance, you could properly tend to his wounds. 

You’d need to put some disinfectant on the raw skin where his seatbelt had been, clean up his nose, and do a more thorough bodily exam to confirm your results but as far as you could see, there was no harm in moving him. There was only the trouble of getting him onto the board by yourself, in such a cramped and awkward position. Sweeping your eyes over the vehicle for anything to help, you scanned the chair, raising a brow, and twisting to look at your own. 

It took a moment, but your suspicions were confirmed, a handle on the outside of the chair near the door was present, to adjust the angle that the chair was sat at. Testing it, you reached around your seat, pushing the handle down and feeling the chair spring forwards, the wrong directions, and you huffed. Instead, you tried pulling up next, and it began to retract. The more you inched the chair backwards, the further it went, never reaching a limit as it sat halfway flattened, a good bet that the driver’s seat would do the same, and it was the best option you had so far.

 The door on the other side was a little more battered, the metal warped in, and as Chuck returned with Thomas by his side. He took a single look over the cabin, before his eyes were widening, and then narrowing on you. 

“Did you take off your harness?”

“No!” You moved, kneeling a little, half between the man's chair and half on the passenger as you hooked your thumb under the edge to show him. “I just undid the rope so that I could move around and actually do my job.”

“Are you insane? Do you have absolutely no concept of danger?” Thomas hissed, and you stuck your tongue out at him, moving to get a better look at the gap between his chair and the door, and whether you were going to be able to get your hand to the lever.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Chuck agreed, and you sighed at the pair of them.

“Put your rope back on, right now, or else-”

“Or else what, Tommy? What are you gonna’ do, huh?” You paused, raising a brow at him, and his jaw snapped shut. “You gonna’ come in here and make me? Unbalance the van with all your stomping around as you wrestle me back onto the rope? I think not.” His lips flicked up at the sides, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and his head ducked, but you didn’t miss the quiet chuckle he let out. When his head lifted, however, the amusement was gone, and that same endearing concern was back, making you sigh. “You got this whole thing hooked up with wires, I’m perfectly safe. I trust you.”

He swallowed thickly at your words, nodding his head, before his shoulders slumped a little. “Alright, fine. So, you got a plan or what, sweetheart? Because I don’t see how you’re going to get him onto that board alone, so maybe I will have to come in and wrestle you back into your ropes anyway.”

“Oh, ha ha.” You scoffed, adjusting yourself to be able to reach, and wincing as the screeching sound of metal and the slight wobble at the uneven weight distribution toward the driver’s seat brought back unsettling memories of your time in the elevator month’s prior. “I’m going to lower the chair back, and loosen his seatbelt as best I can. We can wiggle the board under him slowly, I’ll get the neckbrace on him, and push him up far enough for you to drag him the rest of the way.”

Thomas chewed on his bottom lip, nodding slowly as he thought through, and watching as you moved to lean over the man. Your hand was pressed tightly between the side of the chair and the metal as you worked your way down, blindly searching by touch for the lever you needed, and finally, you squeezed your fingers over the handle, but barely able to move to pump it and lower the chair carefully. “No sudden movements, okay? I don’t want any extra stress on those ropes.”

“No sudden movements, I promise.”

You flexed the handle, the chair lowering by an inch, maybe a little more, and you kept it up, your arm beginning to ache from the angle you were working at already, but with each squeaky sound, his chair was lowering more and more, straightening his spine out carefully as he lay down, your other hand resting against his forehead delicately to keep his head straight.

As he was lowered further and further, you pumped the chair as far as it could go, getting his body as streamlined as you could, and you were already making progress with him. Chuck was ready, holding the board up for you, and you nodded your head, letting go of a tense breath and leaning back to rotate your arm slowly to ease the cramp that was building in the muscles and tendons of your shoulder.

Shifting between the seats, and standing hunkered over as not to bump your head against the roof, you positioned yourself before him, Thomas holding one side of the board for stability, and Chuck on the other, watching for your advice silently. Cupping his head carefully, glove covered palm under the back of his skull to keep him steady, you lifted his head forwards just slightly, holding him still and curling your fingers in a motion as though to say ‘come hither’, and the board inched forward. 

As the plastic came into your peripherals, you reached out, guiding it to rest on the fabric of the chair under his head, pressing in until they reached the junctions of his shoulders, and then they stopped. Your palm was held up flat to them in signal, and while it would have been just as easy to talk, something about breaking the tense silence felt wrong, as though it would disturb the concentration you all had going.

Supporting his head still, you moved your other hand to lift his shoulders up, grunting a little at the added weight and strain on your arms in the less than ideal position, but it worked. With each wiggle and shift, they got the board a little further down under his body, sometimes stopping when it got caught on the safety belt or his clothing, but otherwise being completely successful. As the board bumped the backs of his legs, still bent over the seat with his feet pressed to the floor, you placed his head down, facing a whole new challenge. 

“What now?”

“I need you to get in here with me.” His face deadpanned, and you grinned, the blank look on his face amusing you. “Relax, not right up here with me. I just need you to pull him upwards very slowly onto the board while I adjust him. Once he’s on the board, I can strap him securely, and get the neck brace on him. You guys get him out, I get out of this death trap, and I see some other patients.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Try to keep his head still, okay? We don’t want him getting any more injuries that we could have prevented.” Thomas only nodded in conformation, before he was stepping up, the van wobbling a little as he did, and he lowered himself down to one knee.

Reaching over the man, and inching two thicker-gloved hands under his shoulders, finding it harder to get a grip than you did in just your rubber gloves. He didn't move, though, waiting to be told to do so as you unclipped his seatbelt, the material slinking away across his body and back into the holder. Just as you prepared yourself for the neck brace, turning back to the passenger seat beside it, you watched his head roll to the side, cheek pressing into the fabric limply.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Thomas' voice raised a little, insistent he hadn't, and you fixed him with a questioning look. “I swear!”

You didn’t get a chance to question him, before a loud gasping was sounding in the van, followed by a groan that bounced from the metal walls of the van, and his eyes were snapping open. Everything was still for only a moment, and you tried to process your words, mind spinning and you didn't have a chance to think before he was sitting up roughly, the car rocking with his movements, and he let out another agonised noise at the motions.

“Sir, I need you to rel-”

“What happened?” His head whipped from side to side, face screwing up before he was wincing, and the blood that had dried on his skin from his nose was soon replaced by a fresh gush of red, dripping over his lower lip and along his chin as he panicked. Sitting up further, the car rocked, and his hands flew out, gripping onto the edge of the van for stability. “What the fuck happened?”

“(Y/N), put your ropes back on!”

Your head snapped up to Thomas, his eyes wide as he pointed to the rope you still had clipped to the opposite chair, and you nodded your head at the precarious rocking of the vehicle. A hand grabbed your wrist, jerking roughly in fear as your attention was brought back to the man, and there was another shout of your name from Thomas, falling on deaf ears as the pleas of your patient drowned him out;

“Are we over the river?”

“I need you to calm down for me, okay, can you do that?” You tried to place a hand on his shoulder, to stop the moving that he was doing, but the whole vehicle groaned under the pressure, the sound of snapping and crumbling concrete making itself known, and then came a tearing, a loud banging against the side of the van, and Thomas jumped a little as he backed out of the van to peer over the top.

“What was that?”

“(Y/N) put your damn rope back on, now!”

“What was that, Thomas?” Your voice raised, demanding again as the vehicle swayed and you struggled to remain upright, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. 

“One of the support wires snapped, the movement is too much, it can’t take the weight.”

“The supports are snapping?” The patient sounded more panicked than either of you, and the grip that had been almost bruising around your wrist was released, your hand snatched back to your chest as you gripped it supportively. That same large hand landed on your shoulder, a brief push as he struggled to his feet and pushed past you in a haze of blinding fear and adrenaline, the vehicle moving violently as he tried to clamber his way on shaky legs from the van. 

You fell, the pressure from his push making you stumbled and your legs caught on the edge of the passenger seat chair, your body falling backwards and head hitting against the dashboard, shoulder landing on the handbrake and a sharp shock of pain ran along your entire body at the feeling. The sounds of your team members shouting at you, at the patient, at anyone else all became muffled for a second as your ears rang at the collision, your eyes squeezed closed, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath in and out as you processed the pain and tried to suppress it to be dealt with later.

The car came to a steady rest, no longer moving so aggressively but simply swaying, and you tried to adjust yourself carefully to be able to sit up. Thomas and Chuck were watching, with no sight of the patient, and both of them relaxed a little as you came into view. 

“Is he alright?”

“Is he alright?” Thomas seethed, and you blinked a little to clear fuzzy vision as you focused on your surroundings. “That idiot almost just made this van tip. He ran off to find Newt, I assume. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little achy.” You muttered, the understatement seeming to make the throbbing in your shoulder seem worse. “It’s not his fault, he was in pain and confused, he wasn’t thinking clearly, it’s not his fault, Tommy.”

His anger didn’t seem to die down at all, but his resolve broke, and he choked back whatever he had to say, shaking his head. “Can you reach your rope? We need to get you out.”

You regretted using the passenger seat as your test for the lever one, because even at the most outstretched your arm could get, you still couldn't reach it from here without moving. Shifting up onto your knees, the van jerked again, tilting a little further as a sound of metal on stone so piercing it made your stomach churn and body shudder sounded out, another lurch forwards, another wire giving way, and you still couldn’t reach your rope.

“No! No, don’t move! There are two wires doing four wires’ job right now. Please, just stay still. Let me think of another way to get you out, just give me a minute, I can do this!”

Thomas’ voice was frantic, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as well as him, knowing that while he was all worked up, his mind wasn’t going to be clear at all. “You need to relax first, you’re going to work yourself into an anxiety attack.”

“Relax? You’re hanging over a river in an unstable van that could go at any moment! How could you possibly tell me to relax?”

“Thomas!” His head snapped up, eyes wide, his gaze steady as his eyes found yours, and you watched his shoulders loosen a little. “Please, just take a breath. I need you to not be Tommy right now. I need you to be my Lieutenant, okay?” He nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath despite how shaky the inhale was, and letting it go slowly. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Okay.” It was like watching him shift into a new person before your eyes, a single deep breath, before he was letting out a sigh, and he stood up from his hunched-over position to look around the area surrounding you both outside of the truck. He let out a ragged sigh, trying to steady his own nerves, and you were struggling to do the same, feeling you the rushing of blood inside of your ears was almost deafening as your heart pounded, palms growing sweaty. 

Distracting yourself, you peeled off the rubber gloves, fixing flexing when they were free of the latex, and you tried to control your jitters. The van was tipped at an uneven angle now, and as you leaned forward, it wasn’t much of a strain to catch sight of the raging river below. The river was raging, the normally calm and steadily flowing waters were trampling anything in their path; branches, twigs and debris jostled in the rolls of water as the storm floods were washing away all the broken branches and eroded concrete it had created, the barriers up the side almost flooding over as the heavy rainfall you’d had was drained away.

One thick blue rope was pulled to its maximum tightness around the front of the vehicle, caught against the car’s metal insignia across the front, and some of the strings were beginning to snap, one thread of cotton at a time coming loose. 

“Hey, Lieutenant?” He ducked back down, eyes wide as he stared at you, cocking a brow in silent questioning. “Not to rush you or anything, but that last rope is fraying, and I don’t think it’s going to-”

The van screeched against the concrete, dragging forwards a little more, and the sound of several voices suddenly shouting filled what had only a second ago been reasonably calm quiet. You couldn't pick out a single voice, it was a calamity of panicked yells and commanding orders, and Thomas had disappeared from the end of the van, leaving you entirely alone. 

It wasn’t a feeling you liked, sitting in a metal tin as it rocked unevenly, the sounds of the tearing rope becoming louder and more common, the more strain put on fewer threads was speeding up the rate at which the rope was giving way, and there was a burning in the back of your throat as tears threatened to burn. 

You sniffled, cursing yourself for being on the verge of tears when you had bigger priorities right now than crying, but you couldn't help it. You were terrified, you were facing a drop of twenty feet while trapped inside of a van, into water that would be well below zero in temperatures, travelling at speeds you’d never be able to kick your way to the surface within, and it was overwhelming. 

A gasping breath, and another one, before your eyelids were growing heavy and as you shut them, you felt tears begin to leak free. You were barely balanced in the passenger seat, your legs aching and muscles tensed as you tried to hold yourself steady at the uneven angle, and parts of your body were growing numb as the dull pain became overwhelming. 

“How ya’ doing in there, (Y/L/N)?”

You couldn't help the weak laugh that you let out, wiping at your cheeks and looking up to face Thomas, his eyes flickering over with concern, but he kept his emotions steady, handling this much better than you were; but then again he wasn’t the one hanging over the edge of a bridge. “You know, just hanging out.”

“Can’t be that bad if you can still make puns.”

“Oh, I’m loaded with them, ready to drop at any time.” You insisted, silently thanking him for the fact that he was overlooking the tears still running down your cheeks and the wobble of your lower lip, instead just offering you a chuckle at the ironic words you had spoken. “So, how’s that rescue plan coming along, or are you just planning to leave me in here? Just when I thought we were getting over our issues..”

“Well, this would be a pretty convenient way to solve all of that.” He grinned, and you wiped your cheeks clear, skin stinging from the hot salt. “We’re just going to get some new anchors into the floor. If we can get a stabilising rope around this van then we’ll send someone in to get you, okay? Just keep holding on for me, you’re doing great, an-”

You squeaked a little at the tremor that shook the vehicle, your eyes going wide and Thomas’ words dying in his throat. That preamble seemed to be the warning, because only a  second later, the van was jerking again, another foot or so over the bridge and the back wheels were almost over the edge now too. 

Your body fell forwards, side colliding with the edge of the dashboard, ribs flaring up with pain and your leg twisted a little as it was caught in the gap between the chair and the flooring. The van was almost perpendicular now, you were pressed to the glass, the board you’d intended to lift your patient out on had slammed into the glass and it as fracturing in one corner, and despite the fear you had expected to be racing through you at this point, you felt an unsettling wave of calm. 

The voices outside were louder, the two ends of frayed rope hanging by the passenger windows, destroyed and useless, and you swallowed thickly, pushing yourself up a little bit and trying to gain your bearings, a headache forming behind your eyes from the stress and the panic bubbling inside of you, but crying no longer felt appropriate. 

“Hey, Tommy, are you still there?”

“I thought you wanted Lieutenant?” He sounded about as stressed as you felt, and you could no longer see him, all of the weight being held on the rope that Brenda was supposed to be holding for you, and you had no doubt that she must be under immense pressure on the other end of the machinery to hold it steady, but the thinner ropes designed for you weren’t going to hold very long. 

“Yeah, but now I want Tommy.” You mumbled, knowing that he couldn't hear you, and you tried to sort through your thoughts. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But I have a plan, alright? You’re just not going to like it.”

“I can’t say I’ve been all that fond of any of your plans, if I’m honest.” He gasped, a false sound of offence echoing around the cabin, and the weight on your shoulders lifted a little. “You can’t be all that surprised. So far, you’ve had me crawling between buildings on ladders and abseiling into elevator shafts that were dropping. It would seem that me and these harnesses just have some bad luck.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d stayed on your rope both of those times, you’d have been just fine.” He teased, and you scoffed at his statement, knowing that there was an air of both truth and falseness about it. “I’m going to lower another rope down to you, and you need to clip it to your harness, alright?”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah, but then comes the scary part.” He was trying to sound brave and you knew it was for your own benefit, but you were seeing right through him. “I need you to hold still and let the van drop away. We’re going to cut the rope, and the vehicle is going to drop out from under you. We can’t get any more anchors in the tarmac because of the cracks, so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

There was a rope being lowered, and the glass underneath of you cracked a little bit more as you reached for it, fingers brushing against the metal of the carabiner, and you felt relief flood through you at simply having it in your hands. Your fingers worked over the catch quickly, unscrewing it to be able to hook it onto the front of your harness, and making sure that you did it up as tightly as you possibly could with the trembling you currently had. Tugging twice on the rope, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, we’re going to cut the final wire, and you need to slide between the front seats before we do. Don’t try to climb, you’ll unbalance the van and it could drag you over the edge with it.”

Your body tensed as you stayed still, daring to shift fractionally to press your feet to the cracking glass underneath you, and it splintered even more, chips beginning to fall away as it threatened to break entirely. “I’m ready.”

It was a lie, a blatant, stone-cold lie, and yet you knew it needed to be done. Only a second after you’d said it, the ground underneath your feet was falling away, the already unstable vehicle tumbled forward with a groan, and your eyes squeezed shut. The breeze it created as it passed you by, the spray of water that came up from the almost deafeningly loud crashing it made as it hit the surface of the icy waters, and ten you were swinging. 

Dangling precariously over the edge, the muffled shouts of everyone above seeming like white noise as you tried to focus on simply holding off the upcoming panic attack that was bubbling within you, the droplets of cold water on your cheeks a direct contrast to the tears that were leaking free. You felt nauseous, a hand coming down to cover your stomach as the other cupped over your mouth, a precaution as you felt your gut twist into knots at the way your centre of gravity was spinning. 

It was the same way that your stomach would flip on a rollercoaster as it shot down a steep cliff, but continuous and without the rush of thrill, each jerk in the rope as you were tugged a few inches back up towards the surface making more adrenaline surge through your body to drown out the screaming fear that was threatening to consume you.

You waited, simply trying to catch your breath, trying not to let the stress get to you any more than it already had, and as the edge of the crumbled and broken concrete came into sight. The tips of your fingers were stinging and sore as you scrabbled against the stonework of the road pulling yourself up until you were on your hand and knees, head hanging, and head pounding.

It was all too much, your body feeling weak and your mind buzzing as you thought over it all, and the flashing lights around you were almost blinding, but it reminded you of where you were. You reached out, a hand wrapping around your own as you were pulled to your feet, and the flushed face of the man who’d saved your life was standing before you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You whispered, and he chuckled, using his teeth to pull off his glove and drop it to the ground, before a warm palm was closing over your cheek. The other soon followed, thumbs wiping away tears you had forgotten were even present, and you sank a little into his touch as he held onto you. “You have a job to do, Lieutenant.”

“I can spare a second to make sure you're okay.”

You nodded, sniffling a little, and shaking your head free of his grasp to wipe at your cheeks yourself. There was enough adrenaline racing through you right now to give you the power to fight a pissed off bull, your entire body jittering from head to toe, and you could barely think straight. “Really, Thomas, I’m fine.”

He stiffened slightly, and you knew you were shutting him out, but you couldn't help it, you’d been so scared in the moment, and yet, it hadn't been alone. You were scared because for the first time you could remember in your career, there were people who cared about you, and that had somehow made it all the more terrifying a prospect. You’d never had so much to lose before now.

“I should get back to work.”

The silence felt weighted as it hung between you, and your arms wrapped around your body at the chill of the winds that were sweeping over. You knew he hated the change of topic that you’d made, he was reaching out to you once again, and you were too afraid to return it. “I think Newt is just about done here, why don’t you head back to the ambo’ and get him to patch you up, instead.”

“Thomas..”

“I have a team to run.” His voice was firm again, and you felt locked out. You knew you’d messed up, you had done it to yourself, but you hated that he was disappointed in you. It was an unfortunate turn of events, something unexpected that made everything seem like a risk, and yet you weren’t used to having people who cared around you, to feeling like such a close-knit member of a team that it would affect them all so deeply.

He was walking away from you, a frown on his lips, and you wanted to reach out, but you didn’t know how to.

You turned away yourself, regretting the action as you did, and you wanted to glance back over your shoulder, but you knew he was angry. Still, it didn’t help the pain you felt, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, and every step you took away from him with bad blood still sitting heavy between you made you feel like you were wading through wet concrete. It was odd, how only a few months ago this kind of arguing had been the usual between you both, and yet now, it made you feel like you could barely breathe, a weight sitting on your chest. 

You couldn't take it. “Thomas!”

When you turned, he was glancing back over his shoulder, face sitting neutral and a single brow raised as he waited for you to keep speaking, but as you took further steps towards him, his face softened a little further. He turned to face you fully, eyes widening a little and his jaw dropped to ask you what was wrong, but he didn’t get a chance. A soft sound left him as your body collided with his, your face pressing into his chest as your arms circled his waist, and his breath was rushed from his lungs at the impact. 

You didn’t know what to say, and so you didn’t say anything, because, after a moment of shock, he seemed to silently get the message. His head boxed, his arms wrapping tightly back around you as he pulled you up to his height, his head bowing as he held you just as securely as you were holding him, and you let the tension in your body slip away for a second, to let him hold you up.

“We’re okay, I promise. As long as you’re okay.” You barely caught his words, mumbled into your hair, and it took you a second to process them but then you were nodding, and pulling yourself even closer to him in that moment. He was warm, and comforting, and now that you were actually holding him, everywhere he wasn’t touching felt cold.

His arms loosened around you, coldness sweeping in around your hands as he moved, and you stole a further second in the embrace, before his arms were falling away fully, and you were letting him go. His jacket was shucked down his arms, his eyes flickering over your face slowly before he was lifting the heavy jacket up and wrapping it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you, the fabric already heavy with heat and comfort he’d created. 

He waited as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, a hand closing over your hand, thumb brushing over your palm as he held it up, your skin littered with grazes and raw flesh from the broken concrete you had climbed over. “Go and get cleaned up, alright?”

It felt easier to walk away now, his gaze hadn't been so harsh and his smile was burning into the back of your mind as he turned from you again, jogging over to join Minho and Fry as they were using the cutters to pry open the metal on the side of a car that had become quite contorted as it had roughly collided into another. Newt was already waiting for you, tinkering around the back of the ambulance as he waited, and when he turned to find you at the scuff of your shoes on the floor, the scowl on his face melted away, only to return a second later with much more power. 

“You took off your damn rope?”

“I couldn't reach the patient.” You whispered, a growl leaving his lips, and as he hopped down from the vehicle, wincing a little at the sudden pressure on his leg but ignoring it to walk over to you, your body tensed up. You were prepared to be yelled at again, to be chastised by your friend, and your walls were shooting back up in protection. 

“I was scared. Don’t fucking do that. That’s not what ‘bestest friends in the whole wide world’ are supposed to do, okay?”

You couldn't help the relieved laugh that bubbled from you, your head shaking a little as he stood before you. “Yeah, well, it’s not official until you get it stitched on a t-shirt for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get an extra-large one. You and Tommy can share it.” He was smirking now, tugging at the jacket you had wrapped around yourself, and you flushed with heat, but didn’t flinch. Instead, you wrapped it a little tighter around your body, like a piece of armour, and smirked back.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn't you?” He scoffed as you walked past him, hopping up into the ambulance to reach for the med bag of his that was sitting on the floor, and he took it from your grasp, a hand on your shoulder as he pushed you back to sit on the stretcher. 

It went quiet after that, as he held each of your hands up one at a time, mumbling apologies as he wiped disinfectant over each twisting fingertip, and cleaning the small cuts and scrapes across your palms. You had torn nails with dirt stuck underneath, and he took his time to file them down gently so as not to catch and tear any further, and you bit on your lower lip.

It was startling to be cared for so lovingly by another person. 

He took a clean wipe and cleared the dirt from your face, the aloe cooling against your skin as he said nothing about the tracks within the dirt you were sure existed, made by your tears, or the raw flesh of your lower lip from nervous biting. When it was all done, he brushed a delicate hand over your head, tucking your hair away behind your ears, and offering you a friendly and reassuring smile, before packing away his equipment. 

“You were right.”

“I usually am, love.” He grinned, closing up the backdoors of the ambulance and locking them tight, ready to make your journey back to the firehouse. Your legs swung under you as you watched him pack away, pouting a little bit as you realised that you’d lost your own medkit, your lucky charm that didn’t quite feel so lucky anymore, but it had at least found you House ‘21, and that's all that mattered now. 

“About a year. I know it hasn’t been a full year yet-”

“Almost has!” He chirped, and you followed him up to the front, taking a seat in the passenger seat and doing up your seatbelt securely.

“What I’m trying to say is.. thanks.” He started up the engine, backing out of the spot slowly as his job was all done, and you were well in need of getting back to the house. “Thank you for making me stick around, Newt.”

“Thanks for sticking around.” It was a simple reply, but you caught the meaning hidden underneath, and clearly, you weren’t the only one who struggled with really putting your thoughts and feelings into words. Newt was one of the best friends you had ever had, and for the first time, you were finding a home in a firehouse that you weren’t immediately looking to escape from, but saw a future within. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He shrugged, eyes fixed on the road, but flicking over to you occasionally. 

“You’re shaking a little.”

You glanced down, finding that you were, in fact, shaking slightly. Your hands balled up into fists, and you tucked them a little further within the sleeves of the coat that you were wearing. “It’s just an aftershock. The adrenaline wearing off.”

It wasn't exactly a lie, the adrenaline you’d been flooded with was beginning to slow down, to fade away, and you were left with slight trembles and some nausea that wouldn't go away for hours, but you could handle that. You’d had the same feelings after the elevator drop, and after going into any burning building for at least thirty minutes, it was always scary. 

You just didn’t want to look any deeper. 

He didn’t push further, but there was a frown on his lips, and despite watching out of the window at the scenery flashing by, you could feel his gaze sometimes move over you, studying you, but silence hung heavy. The car was pulled into the docking bay, and you were still trembling, your mind spinning with everything that you’d encountered, and you hated that it was taking so long for your mind to clear. 

Ever since you were little, all you’d ever wanted to do was help people, to save lives, but there were times when you put yourself at risk to do so. You couldn't help it, when you’d spent so long living alone, you forgot what it was like to have to take other people into consideration. You didn't have much of a family to rely on, but every passing day made the crew of Firehouse ‘21 more and more your family, the people who would be there with you for the rest of your life, and that same burning was coming rushing back to your throat, and the ache behind your eyes. 

The door on the other side of you slammed shut, Newt exiting the vehicle, and your bottom lip shook. Your chest felt tight, and you gripped at your chest underneath the material, a hand freeing from the sleeve to press over your chest, your heart beating erratically underneath. Tears pooled in your eyes, and you took a gasping breath, everything suddenly coming crashing over you, and you could barely suck breath into your lungs despite how much you were gasping and trying to. 

The thoughts in your mind were spiralling so much that they seemed to go into overdrive, a  dizzying array of thoughts that made you feel like you were drowning. It was almost blinding, the flashes of thoughts from within your one head making you feel like you couldn't see, couldn't hear, everything was slipping away into background noise as the unsteady race of your heart, and the support of the door you were leaning on fell away. 

Two hands were holding onto you tightly, pulling you out of the vehicle and your legs gave way, a shock running up your body as your knees collided with the concrete flooring. It was a shock of cold, chilled metal and biting winds against ear stained cheeks, and your lungs were burning as you tried to breathe. 

A warm presence to your side, a hand wrapping over your own and undoing your fingers from the clutching that they held, your nails having dug painfully into damaged palms, and you clung to them instead. It was Newt, the shushing in your ear told you so, holding you tight and steady as you tried to focus, tried to clear your mind and sort through your thoughts, until there was nothing left but the sound of your own sobs echoing around the room. 

You were stronger now, and despite the crying that you couldn't seem to stop, you were able to be pulled to your feet, out of the cold and a wash of heat rolling over you as your feet followed the guidance Newt gave to you, the lights in the rec-room flicking on at his motion over the switch, the pair of your being the first of the team to re-enter upon coming back from a call. You settled down on the couch, curling into the cushions, and trying to get a grip on your raging emotions. 

“You wanna’ take this coat off now? Get comfy?”

They were the first of the words spoken to make any sense, to not be a garbled blur in your ears, and it was at least a good sign as you began to refocus. You nodded slowly, sitting forwards enough to peel the coat from your arms, and it was left sitting over the back of one of the armchairs.

He reached for the remote, the television flickered on in front of you, a movie you didn’t recognise playing on the screen but it gave you stimulation to focus on, your head pressing to the cushion as you sat steadily, shoes kicked off and legs pulled up tightly to your body. 

You didn’t understand much about what was happening on the screen, the characters flicking past and the conversation going over your head, but it was stable enough for you to use as an anchor. The doors opened and closed, you heard the firetrucks pull up, and they progressively trickled into the room. Newt was tinkering in the kitchen behind you, the hob flicking on and the sound of pots and pans clattering lowly, and the couch dipped a little beside you as Brenda sat down.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

Her shoulder bumped against yours, and you twisted your head to look at her, shrugging slightly and offering her the best smile you could. “Better now.”

She only nodded, glancing away over your shoulder, and you had no doubt that Newt was giving them a different story, but it was true. At this moment, you may be fragile, but you had a sneaking suspicion that the panic attack you had was unrelated to the accident at all. You were a paramedic, you worked with firefighter’s, risking your life on a day-to-day basis was just a part of the job description, but you’d made a crack in walls within yourself that you didn’t even realise you’d put up.

You had made breakthroughs in your own mind that you didn't realise needed to be made, and it had been so thoroughly overwhelming that you hadn't been able to handle the influx. Brenda moved, her own coat still sitting on her shoulders and she wandered away to get changed, taking Thomas’ coat with her, and she squeezed your shoulder as she passed you by. 

“Made you some tea.”

Chuck was next, a steaming mug held out in front of you, a mixture of herbal essences curling up into the air and you hummed happily at the smell, reaching out to cup the warm porcelain, your favourite mug holding the drink, and you smiled. “Thanks, Chuck.”

“It’s Gally’s. It had the word ‘relax’ printed in large letters across the front of the box, so I figured it might help.” You brought it closer, sniffling it lightly, and the smell of chamomile and vanilla flooded your senses, your mouth watering a little, desperate to taste, but you resisted. Instead, you blew cool air on it, your eyes flicking up over Chuck’s head as a shadow took over. The boy twisted to look too, his Lieutenant glancing down at him, and he took the hint, offering you a final smile, before he was moving away. 

Thomas took his place, and you sipped your drink as you watched him take a seat before you.

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”

“I was being reckless.” You conceded, and his head tipped to the side, his gaze fixed on his hands as he played with his fingers. 

“You were trying to save lives, you were doing your job, and I got protective. If it had been anyone else, I would have understood that. I shouldn’t have gotten mad, when I was supposed to be doing my job, being a Lieutenant, not something else.” He gave out a sigh, like he was chastising himself, and you didn’t want him to, even if he was right. 

“I’m not used to having people who care about me so much. I should have thought about that.” He dared to glance up, a nervous look in his eyes, and your voice remained low, a hushed whisper for a conversation only to be shared between the two of you. “I don’t mean to shut you out, Thomas. Especially not after the other day.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” You mumbled, a pink heat spreading across his cheeks. “It’s all just very new to me. I know you must feel like I’m playing hot and cold, and I’m really sorry about that, but I’m trying to work everything out. I’m trying to work out how I feel. I don’t know how to act around you, sometimes.”

A cheeky glance passed over his face with that, and you rolled your eyes at him, biting on the inside of your cheek to contain your smile as he grinned. “Oh, cut it out. I don’t mean you, I mean all of you. I’m not used to having a family, or such close friends. I’ve never belonged anywhere before.”

“You belong here, with us.” He was honest now, and a hand was pushing out across the cushions between you both, and offering, and you rested your hand over the top of his own. “So, not even a little bit of it was about me?”

“You’re insufferable.” He was beaming once again, clearly knowing just which buttons he was pushing, but his thumb lifted up, closing over your own. “Maybe it was a little bit about you. There’s something, I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there. It’s different.”

“It’s different for me too.” He mumbled, and his fingers parted, letting yours slip between his to weave together, and that cocky smirk became more of a bashful smile. At least you know that while he may make you flustered, you had the same effect on him. That smile was back, the one you rarely ever saw, cute and shy as he looked at you, and you felt warm under his gaze, but you were unable to look away.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your chest as you confessed it all, a rock you didn’t even know was there, like someone had been pushing down on your lungs and you were finally able to fight them off. His hand lifted, moving over the back of the couch, until his fingers were toying loosely with the ends of your hair, a tied back bunch that was falling loose from the stress of the day, and his fingers inched up towards the bobble. 

He waited, checking it was okay, before pulling it loose, fingers working through your hair as it was eased down and out of the pattern you’d put it in, to fall loose around your face. His fingers skated over your scalp, soothing the ache within, and you let your eyes fall closed as you sank into the touch he gave you. 

“That was your right of passage!” You bounced on the couch as Brenda fell into place beside you, unbalancing you a little, and her arms wrapped around you as she twisted you to face her a little bit more. Thomas’ hand fell away as he chuckled, and you didn’t even need to ask her what she meant, before she was barreling on; “You almost died-”

“Brenda!” You grinned at the loud shout Newt let out, and she shrugged. 

“What? She did! She knows she did, it ain’t a secret!” The blond huffed, and went back to his cooking, and you turned to face her again. “As I was saying, you almost died, and we rescued you. You really are a member of the team, now!”

“She already was, you moron!” 

“Newt! Shut your mouth!” She hissed, and he stuck his tongue out, and you felt the cushions shift again, lifting your mug to your mouth to hide your expression while waiting for the next voice to chime in. 

“It’s true, I wasn’t a part of the team until I almost fell into a mince grinder in a factory four years ago when the bridges gave it.”

“Oh, dude, c’mon. We’re cooking.” Fry huffed, and Minho shrugged. “Alright, well, mine wasn’t as exciting. Just a fire where the doorway collapsed, eight stories up. Brenda drove the truck around to the side and Gally smashed the window out, he made me jump out of it to reach the ladder.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?” Gally was stirring his own tea, before he came to sit in the armchair to the side of you all, and your attention turned to him, waiting for his story. “I got trapped in a crumbling building, debris fell on me. Thomas dug me out.”

You turned to face Thomas, his hand still sitting behind your head stretched out along the couch, tapping at the cushions, and he directed his gaze to you when he realised he had your attention. “What about you?”

“My story?” You nodded, and he swallowed thickly. Everyone else seemed just as caught in curiosity, as though they didn’t know the story, and he seemed lost in his thoughts. “Mine is a little different. It came before the firehouse. I was in a house fire when I was younger, my mom was pretty badly hurt, a lot of trauma, she never fully recovered. Newt lived across the road, we couldn't have been any more than six, but he came over the next day, and asked me if I needed a friend. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am if it wasn’t for him, he’s stuck by my side ever since. Does that count?”

Silence hung over you all, and you turned to face him a little more, his eyes locked on yours, despite everyone else in the room, and you nodded. “It counts.”

“So, you’re telling me that I need to almost die to be a part of this team?” Chuck sounded utterly appalled, and you couldn't hide your laughter, the sound mixed with everyone else's as it echoed around the room, harmonious mixing like wolves howling.

“Well, that and passing your exams, kiddo.” You bit your lip upon speaking the words, and the amusement in the room only continued, the hand from behind your body slipping down to rest over your shoulders, and you leaned into him once again. 

The stories continued being passed around, and there was an overwhelming sense of camaraderie as they all relived the moments that had bonded them so intensely. This was what made them a family, and what made them so important to one another. This was what you’d never had before, you’d never fit into a team like this. Every house was different; dynamics and friendships and interpersonal relationships, but you’d never found your fit before now. 

You wanted to fit in, you had wanted it for so long. Craved family and friends and to know that you had a place, and being here with them felt right, and yet it was like dread was hanging over you, sitting on the throne but having a sword on a fraying rope overhead. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong, to prove to you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that your life would be spent as a wanderer, and that this was as close as you would get.

“So, what movie are we watching? It doesn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s not an action movie, Minho. They’re all you watch.” Thomas sighed, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know, Newt chose it.”

“Uh, no, wait a damn minute, missy.” The voice was closer than you expected, and Newt came to round the couch, kicking a foot at Chuck and telling him to move up on the other couch, offering you a bowl of pasta by placing it down on the coffee table before you. The gesture went unspoken but not missed, still trying to help soothe you, as though he knew you even better than he knew himself. “I did not choose the movie, it was just what came on when the television turned on.”

“So I can pick something else?”

“No, Min, you have awful taste in movies.” Your partner scowled, snatching the controller from him, and the group began to bicker, discussing what movie you would all watch, as though you wouldn't likely be interrupted by another call, or the end of your shift. You could always hope to reach the end. 

Lips brushed over your ear, and you paused, breath held as you waited to see what Thomas had to say. “What are you thinking about?”

It was a loaded question, the real meaning hidden between the lines. He wanted to know if you were thinking about him, or more specifically, all of them. It all felt too good to be true, too tempting, like a siren song. 

And yet, as warm honey eyes stared at you expectantly, soft and patient, a plate with a freshly-made snack from someone who loved you sitting on the table and a hot drink that was cooling in your hands, you placed the mug down, knowing that right now, you were willing to take part in the illusion, to put all thoughts aside and just accept what you had right now.

“Nothing. I don’t want to think right now. I just want to be here with you all.” He nodded his head, and you leaned forward to put your drink down on the table with your meal. “With you.”

“Okay, angel.”

The pet name made your stomach do flips, his confirmation having a deeper meaning beyond simply acknowledging your statement. He was accepting your feelings, and accepting that you needed time, but that you were processing how you felt. He was just accepting you for your trying, and giving you the time you needed. He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to your forehead that made something spark in your guts, an excited anxiety at the gesture. 

He backed away, giving you space, and yet you didn’t want it. Shuffling forwards a little more, his face little up in something indescribable as you rested against him, head settling on his shoulder and an arm wrapping around his waist, and barely a second passed before he was holding you back. You didn't want to talk about it, or put any kind of label on it like ‘cuddling’, which Newt would undoubtedly do the next time he got you alone, because you still didn't know what it meant. All you knew was that right now, you wanted it.

For the first time in what felt like decades, you allowed yourself to be truly vulnerable with the people around you.

[1-800-seo]

1-800-SEO presents: — Where Is My Mind?

genre: dystopia/slight angst/escapism

pairing: Johnny Suh/Gender Neutral Reader

warnings: IV’s/needles, intravenous use of narcotics, bad coping mechanisms, alcohol use, depictions/descriptions of poverty to a degree, implied sexual activity, dreams

word count: 2506 words

in affiliation with: @127-mile ‘s

drive in fic collaboration

summary: Based in a future where your wildest dreams can be lived in for a few hours through intravenous methods, vices and virtues blur. Scraping by is all you can do, and escapism is all you live for. Maybe that will change when you meet him. (Loosely based on Inception.)

The familiar haze of mental fog clouds your mind, it coats the edges of your thoughts like a viscous syrup. You find yourself in a wheat field, the golden crops stretching for as far as the eye can see ahead of you. The swirling breeze passes over your hands and you feel it tickle, a sensation you’ve not felt in a long time. After taking a crisp piece of the surrounding plants into your hands, you feel each and every texture it offers with a fingertip. It’s not like you’ve ever touched real wheat before, you want to imprint it to memory. With the piece of crop still in your dominant hand, you turn your head, body following its arc too, and your eyes meet a cottage. The building just exudes a comforting energy, it's homely even when your real home is nothing alike. The trees that are positioned off to the side of the cottage provide the right amount of shade, one side of the house has full direct sunlight and the other is gently shaded, but in a comforting way. You drop the wheat and make your way over to the cottage. As you make your way up to the front door, following the perfectly placed path, you take in the smell of the decorative flowers that adorn the surrounding gardens. The smell of real flowers is something you’re not used to. Finally upon reaching the door, you outstretch your hand to grasp the door handle. The moment your skin makes contact with the sun-heated metal, a blinding hot white shoots across your vision, and pulls you out.

Waking up is never easy, but it’s not like you’re not used to it. The moment you open your eyes you are met with the same dingy apartment as almost every other wake up. Your arms feel weak from lack of circulation as you reach across to pull out your IV. It doesn’t sting, you’ve done this so many times, it’d be surprising if it did. As your eyes adjust to the light you start to make out the time, it’s displayed on the heads up view of your plexi-wall, and reads 11:36PM. Stars, it’d been 7 hours since you last ate, and your body is definitely letting you know as it starts to wake up from its lulled state. You shift your wobbly legs away from the crusty office chair you were sitting on and begin to make your way over to the food dispensary. You hold your palm over the sensor as a silver sachet slides out and into your palm. You make quick work of depositing its contents into a bowl and mixing it with hot water, your hunger spurring you to be swifter.

Before you know it, all of the food has been devoured, your stomach full, and the night is ready to be conquered. You have no desire to leave the flat, nothing calling you besides money to leave the (lack of) comfort of your home. But of course, money always beats out desire, and so you hastily put on your shoes and proofed jacket, grab your safety umbrella and backpack, and leave. Things had to be paid for, and your credits were seriously running low, if you wanted to continue with your expensive hobby, it meant scrounging. You’re not dumb, you knew that daydreaming wasn’t a cheap, safe, respectable, or even remotely healthy hobby to have, but at this point it was escapism, freedom from pain, and so you’d do anything for that sweet peace.

Once you’re at street level, you put up your umbrella. At this point it’s better to be safe than sorry, the acid rain warning that you saw on your dash ringing out in your memory. It never used to be like this, acid rain was once unheard of, but in the last ten years pollution came to the point that even the water cycle couldn’t be trusted. That’s the joys of living in urban scum, you think to yourself. Your ears register the faint sounds of sizzling rain droplets on your umbrella and you're grateful for it now. Your pace quickens, and after a blur of around 20 minutes walk, you arrive at your workplace.

Workplace was definitely too light of a word to call the building that stands before you. The imposing structure juts out into the dark with brightly coloured lights on its each corner, signalling its presence, as if it was easy to miss without the lights. The commonplace sound of thumping bass echoes about the street for meters, and it only gets louder as you walk up the stairs and into the building. A sign reading ‘Sondaero LivingSpaces’ greets you, but you know full well the people here are barely living. Oh no, this type of place is home to some of the most prolific daydreamers; well, the most prolific for the underground scene. You step through a set of large doors and out into the main courtyard. It’s an indoor park, filled with neon bioluminescent plants, and jarringly placed speakers. If this was any other establishment, the sea of ravers surrounded by people daydreaming on cot beds would be jarring to you, but you’re so used to it that you couldn’t care less; or more so, you’re plainly desensitised to it.

You find your way out onto the dancefloor and surround yourself with people - the more people the better, it just makes your job easier. Safely hidden in the palm of your hand is a biometric chip you crafted yourself. Implants are a little drastic in your opinion, especially when cosmetic, but this was a necessary thing to you considering it earnt you money. The function of the chip worked like this: every person is assigned biometric numerical values by the government of their country, this is to make controlling their finances easier without having a physical device like a debit card or a mobile phone. Instead each user is assigned these numerical values based on their facial bone structure, and the chip's job was to scan this using minute sensors. All you had to do was simply wave your hand in the direct vicinity of their face, and await results - those results being the chip draining their bank account of credit and depositing it into yours. The waving part is complicated in normal use, but when at a club, where wild dancing is the norm, it makes hand movements so much less conspicuous. As you imagine the small amounts of money gradually making its way into your account a man approaches you to your side.

The guy has long-ish dark brown hair, with eyes of the same colour and a tall stature. He begins dancing near you, slowly moving closer and closer towards your vicinity. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to this man, he was objectively good looking, and the smirk he was wearing on his face was hard to ignore. Before you know it, he’s leaning in your ear and shout-whispering: “hey, do you wanna get a drink with me, angel?” The confidence in him to skip all normal greetings is astounding to you, but in some ways that makes him even more attractive to you, so you whisper-shout back “yeah!” and lead him over to the bar by the elbow.

After you have a few drinks in you, dancing becomes thoughtless, and swaying and grinding on the nameless man is even easier. “Yo, what’s your name?” You ask over the pulsing beat. His response is a finger trailing up your spine with the words ‘Johnny’ leaving his lips. Maybe those disquieting thoughts aren’t only silenced by daydreaming, maybe this could be another outlet. That thought curls in your mind, the wispy tendrils of a coherent thought fading like a misty night.

A few more drinks in your systems leads you to going home with the man, but your memories fade away as the night (or should you say early morning?) carries on. It passes by in a blur and the next thing you know you’re being startled awake by a cat sitting on your chest, with an unearthly headache.

Once you finally manage to extricate yourself from the cat’s grasps, you sit up and immediately notice the sleeping form of Johnny next to you on the tatami, his chest rising and falling with each breath. As quietly as you can, you tiptoe up off the tatami floor, acknowledge the ache throughout your entire body and move towards his kitchenette for a glass of water. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny apparently has a rudely noisy water purifying outlet attached to his faucet, and it decides to make itself known the moment you hover your palm over the on sensor. Johnny quickly stirs awake at the noise, and he sleepily opens his eyes in your direction.

“Wha-what’s going on?” He asks, squinting as his dark eyes adjust to the light. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get some water.” You respond, tottering back over to the tatami, glass of water in hand. “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t really remember much of last night, did we uh- what did we do?” You’re aware your question was haphazard, but the incessant hangover looming in your head has your thoughts less than clear.

“If you are wondering if we had sex, the answer is yes, but the only thing I remember is waking up covered in… unsavoury stuff...so that certainly was a way of knowing how. I also know that apparently at some part of the night we decided to dream ‘cause I had to tidy up the gear earlier, but to put any worries at bay, I’m clean and vaccinated so...yeah.” He finishes the end of his sentence, trailing off. Well, at least the mystery man is somewhat of a gentleman, and he’s not gonna give you anything nasty which is always a good thing. You realise his late night cleaning must’ve turned to yourself at some point considering you are somewhat dressed and clean, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’d come to this shameful point so what did a bit of aftercare matter.

“Oh ok, and thanks for letting me know. I’m clean and fully vaccinated too.” You respond, unsure how to act around him. Perhaps he feels your apprehension, and in answer he pats a spot on the tatami next to him, just away from his cat too. You make your way over to the spot, feet padding on the floor as you go. “Your cat’s cute, they decided to sit on my chest this morning. Despite knocking the breath out of me, they’re pretty charming.” Johnny’s eyes widen at this knowledge before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. It’s somewhat comforting to hear such a genuine laugh; it takes your mind off the world of insincerity around you.

“I apologise for Ten, he gets cuddly in the mornings.” Johnny picks up his cat to give you more space, Ten’s legs sprawling wide in the air before being put down to safety.

There’s something so warm and familiar about Johnny’s presence, it has you naturally leaning into him, and his arm comes to rest around your shoulders as your head gently leans on his chest. The feeling is just so warm and despite knowing you don’t know him well, it almost feels like you do. It feels like a lover long lost, and now he has returned a warm feeling spreads throughout your chest. It’s almost inexplicable, and if you were to try to justify it to anyone other than yourself, a wave of embarrassment would certainly wash over you.

Looking down at you, he meets your eyes, and they seem somewhat fond; not what you were expecting to see. “Do you fancy dreamin’?” He asks, still maintaining eye contact? “Hmm, sure, hopefully I’ll remember it this time.” You reply with a smile and he reciprocates.

Before you even open your eyes you’re met with the sensation of skin on skin. Beneath your fingertips you feel, what you suppose is a firm chest, and when you open your eyes your suspicions are confirmed. Your hands are resting on Johnny’s taut chest, and of course this is what an unscripted dream with the two of you looks like. You feel that you are naked too, and his hands rest gently around your waist, a relaxing gentle weight reassuring you he’s still there. You meet each other’s eyes and the tension is palpable in the air. He dips his head down and kisses you, lips melting together with ease. His hands move from their placing and trail down to cup the small of your back, your bodies meeting infinitely closer.

The two of you move together like jigsaw pieces slotting into place, there’s no conscious thoughts, only the two of you existing in this dream space. Part of you can feel Johnny’s thoughts swirling as you share the hazy unstructured scape. There’s hints of lust mixed with a sleepy mindset, probably left over from waking up moments ago in the real world. He’s set on being a lazy lover right now, selfishly devouring you with no haste in any of his actions, just taking these moments for himself. He can feel your thoughts just as much as you can feel his, he knows you’re feeling relaxed with him and he’s pleased at that, he knows how good you feel right now and he’s proud. He wants to use all of this time to make you feel good. You’re both in agreement that losing yourself in each other is ever so easy, and so you both fall into the other's grasps.

The second time you wake up, Ten is resting on your feet, warming them from the slight chill of the room. Johnny had roused quicker than you, and he’d already removed the IV from your arm. You spot him winding up the fluid bags and putting them into the insulated case they reside in. “How are you feeling?” He asks whilst disposing of the needles in the marked sharps box. “Good, lighter than usual. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, albeit mostly imaginary.”

The floaty feeling remains in the forefront of your consciousness. Despite feeling lighter, less burdened, you’re aware that you need to change your vices. Constantly daydreaming, forming relationships through them, isn’t healthy. Continuous escapism isn’t a way to live; numbing yourself over and over again won’t solve anything. With a new fervor to gain meaning in your life, you rise from your place on the tatami. “What are your plans for today, John?” You ask, perhaps vices and meaning aren’t that different from each other.

long time no see! this is my penultimate fic :(( hopefully u guys enjoyed it! I know it’s not like my usual style and is somewhat offbeat but I hope it makes sense hehe <3

[tommyspeakycap]

Would you write for John McGinn? anything at all for him haha

you got me

a nasty breakup brings you to the door of the aston villa player, ready to welcome you once again with open arms full of love.

Whistling to himself as he walks from his bathroom to the kitchen of his home, John towel dries off his hair when his doorbell sounds through the house. His immediate reaction is one of question. He tilts his head, furrows his brows and wracks his brain for a memory of potentially making plans that he had then completely forgotten about. Instead, he begins to wonder if there was a chance he had leaked his address and would be met with paparazzi or fans standing on his doorstep. The villa player draws blank on both of those thought processes, and is snapped from them when the a harsh knocking accompanies the sound of said doorbell.

His feet hurry him towards the door, taking the opportunity to look at the doorbell footage he could access from the little alarm box on the wall just next to it. His eyes are met with you standing on his porch dripping from the rain, shivering in soaked clothes and very possibly crying.

He reaches for the door immediately, tugging the heavy thing open with eyes wide, "Bloody hell, you have a key!" He exclaims, ushering you in as he removed his hair towel from around his neck to drape over your shoulders while you close the door behind you. Your lips are a little blue from the winter chill that had blown the cold rain through your clothes. "Forgot it." You chitter, entire body shivering with the painful force to try and conserve some form of heat.

John grabs a bigger towel, one that's much softer and warmer. "Strip off," he orders hurriedly, turning his back to go back into the kitchen and see if he left any clothes in his dryer from the load he put in earlier. "Sh-shouldn't you take me t-t-to dinner first?"

Your half hearted, shivering attempt at a joke doesn't make him laugh like it usually would. He turns around to shoot you a disapproving scowl. "I'll get you some warm clothes, get dried."

You do as told, or attempt to. It's hard when you can't feel your fingers to get a grip on anything more than the zipper of the zip up hoodie you'd had on. You try to shake the material from your shoulders, but your whole body is stiff with the tight muscles that the freezing temperatures had inflicted upon you.

"You'll end up with hypothermia," John rushes, dropping the warm clothes down on the cabinet by the door where you still stand, surrounded by a puddle of rainwater. He works quickly, but carefully to shed you of the zipper, then looks to you for permission to lift your t-shirt over your head. He hands you the warm, dry towel to cover yourself with so he can unclip your soaked bra. Shoes off next, he discards them off behind him as water literally pools from them. You keep that towel around you, patting at your skin as he tries to get your leggings off as painlessly as possible, but every touch still hurts. Your pants, you insist on doing by yourself even if it is a struggle while John holds up the towel.

He didn't bother to even make an attempt at pulling the hair bobble out of your hair, John just snaps the thin black band wordlessly, easily between his fingers before he orders you to flip your hair so he can tied it in another warm towel.

"Why were you out in that?" He asks as he sits you down in his cosy living room with a new, drier towel. You're still chittering, which is worrying but John had learned a lot from coaches behaviours towards the teams when they come off after games played on nights like these. "It's negative 6 degrees."

Warming up was the most important thing, just not too quickly.

You avert your eyes from his, chewing slightly on your lip. "(y/n)," John presses, moving to occupy the space on the couch next to you. You sit forward on the couch so you both sit shoulder to shoulder, his head turns to you while yours faces the floor. "David kicked me out, I didn't have my keys and my phone wasn't charged so I couldn't call you. Busses were off for the weather and the snow covered the train lines yesterday, plus I don't have any money with me so I was scuppered there too. I did some grovelling at the door then I walked here when he wouldn't let me back it."

John's jaw all but hits the floor as anger infiltrates the worry coursing through his veins.

"Don't..." you sigh, trailing off as you stand up with a loose shake of your head. "Don't look at me like that John. I'm gonna go get changed."

The sound of your bare feet padding off through his house holding the warmed pile of his clothes he gave to you was one that he would certainly like to get used to, but you had both done this dance so many times he knew it wasn't something he could count on. Usually you'll call him though, or he'll go and pick you up after a mutual breakup. You've never come on no notice and it's never been because of something like this. John hadn't heard from you in a few weeks either, you had his mind reeling.

Even more so when you reappeared, dry hair tied back out of your face with his grey joggers and black t-shirt drowning you in its size. They were him homebody comfy clothes, so they were bought to be even a little big on him. He had to admit they looked a lot better on you, though.

In the time you were gone, John had made hot chocolate and brought through his biscuit tin to sit on the couch between you both. Words weren't deemed necessary to find a movie he knew you would like. That and he knew you didn't want to talk, so even if he tried it would have been like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall.

He keeps looking over at you, trying to do so discreetly by flicking his eyes over in your direction. Those little giggles at Hugh Grants exasperated facial expressions while James Can disposes of a body in a trunk in the 1999 rom com you loved so much. The movie is good, but your reactions to every time you watch it just like each time is the first time. John can't understand why a man would ever do anything that would wipe that little grin off your perfect lips. How anyone could ever put anyone out on their doorstep in a  storm like that, but least of all someone who was supposed to love you. If it were up to John, you would have been wrapped in a blanket the second the rain pour started, curled in his arms falling asleep to the sound of the thunder rumble and the rain pattering against the street. That was his dream, the one he couldn't keep a girlfriend because of. All he wanted was you and nobody else ever lived up to that.

He wishes he could scream at you, tell you that those very sorry excuses for men that you end up with and what you have with them isn't love. Or maybe you do love them, but they do not love you. They like the idea of you, someone free spirited and always ready to fall in love.

It truly seemed as though you could fall in love with anyone but the one man who wanted you the most.

Watching you fall asleep on his couch, head resting on the high armrest with knees curled up and his blanket still tucked around you with a tiny little bit of chocolate on the corner of your lip sends his heart racing a mile a minute. It feels so right to have you there. He feels guilty for enjoying it. Your heart was broken even if you wouldn't say a word about it and here he was enjoying it.

He uses his foot to push open the spare bedroom door just along the hall from his room. John lays you down carefully on top of the duvet, letting your head nuzzle into his plush pillows as your eyes remain shut in soft sleep. He grabs another blanket for you and makes sure the heating is right up in the room before he leaves you there with an ache in his chest.

He goes to check on you in the middle of the night, finding you not in the room but instead standing in his kitchen still shrouded in blankets with crazy sleep hair and tired eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, startling you ever so slightly. You shrug, moving to take a seat at his kitchen island. “Woke up and got all messed up thinking about how i have literally nothing.” You mumble in response, your voice thick with the desire to burst into tears. It breaks his heart to see you so defeated, your eyes never meeting his as they stare pointedly down at the marble surface. “I’m sorry.” John says, “Really. He’s an arsehole. I can go round and grab some stuff for you tomorrow if you want.” He offers, his apology as sincere as they come. But you shake your head with only a quick glance up at him. John isn’t hot tempered at all. He’s mellow, easygoing and funny. Never quick to anger and never the type to get into a fight but by god is he protective of you. You worry about the kind of blow that would come to his career if he gets an assault charge against your ex when he inevitably doesn’t let John into the house to get any of your stuff while probably barraging you with insults.

“It’s not worth it.” You admit. “It’s less physical. Just leaves me empty, i guess. ‘Cause i gave everything to that relationship and how i have nothing left to give.” The heartbreak and the weight of your words will weigh on John’s mind probably for years to come. How someone could do that to you he will never understand. There’s nothing he wants more in this world than for you to be his to love. He wants to shower you with praise, make you realise how strong you are and remind you every single day that he loves you. That’s what you deserve. You deserve kindness and encouragement and support. He wishes more than anything to be the guy who could give that to you instead of watching you enter into relationships with the worst men he’s ever known only to see you torn down at the other side of it.

“You’ve got me.” He offers. He knows that’s probably not what you want to hear and it might not give you the kind of relief he wishes he could give. But you smile softly and stand up, shuffling over to him under blankets and his warm clothes until you reach him. You don’t really hug him, just lean against him with your cheek on his chest. John wraps his arms around you tightly and feels you sigh contently. He’s your John. The burly Scottish lad who makes you laugh when you feel like crying, who looks after you and keeps you pushing forward when life feels like it’s stacked against you. “Yeah. I love you, John.” You hum softy. John can feel the small smile on your lips against the thin material of the shirt he wore to sleep in because his house was like a sauna with the heating to keep your warm. He can tell you’re about to fall asleep there because he supports most of your weight. He holds you to him, rubbing your back soothingly as you nod ever so slightly against him.

“Even when i’ve got nothing, i’ve got you.”