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aloneinthehellfire · 9 months

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Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive

[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x reader #robin x reader #robin buckley #sapphic #sapphic fic #st4 fanfic #st4

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mrabubu · 3 months

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Thank you for your drawing and sharing what youve been through. I was close to my gram and she died suddenly a few years back but I was with her the day before she died and she told me how much she misses my grandad, and I regret not being able to give her the comfort before she suddenly died the next day, so I can understand slightly on having regrets. Not exactly what you’ve experience but I can kinda relate

I keep coming back to your 40 anniversary Leo drawing and the experience you’ve gone through, it’s hard not being able to say the things you really want to before it’s to late, so thank you again for sharing something so intimate.

As always your art is amazing and you can really feel the emotions coming off each piece. I hope your feeling better ❤️

Thank you, too~ I'm glad if I'm able to express my emotions through my art and people feel it.

#abubu ask

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mvrtaiswriting · 2 years

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Hi, Marta! How are u? I read that your pc died and it's sucks. Know that feel 🥲 But I hope that everything will be fine ❤️

I saw that your requests are open and I just couldn't pass by. Your works are *chef's kiss*. They're perfect, really.

So my request is prompt:

9. ripping the other away - “no we shouldn’t” - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close

for Ace or Law, on your choice.

Law x prompt 9: ripping the other away - “no we shouldn’t” - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close

hiii! my pc is fine, thankfully - i would have been completely fucked considering the amount of uni work i have so your positive vibes definitely worked. THANKS for the compliments I am *blushing* and thanks for requesting THIS OH MY GOD. It was a hard choice cause I love both these boys so much and choosing Ace would have given birth to a funny work, but this Law piece.. oh my god. probably my favourite, the best thing I wrote so far. It is rather LONG (more than I expected and that it should beee). I could write about this stoic boy for hours!!!! anyway please tell me what do you think and AAAAH I hope you enjoy this!!!

gender neutral! sfw.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.- from this event.

Law has been watching you all night. He hated the alliance with the Straw-hat pirates for many reasons, but nothing irritated him as much as seeing you joyfully chatting your night away with Luffy and Zoro. He was your captain, you were in his crew, why weren't you spending time with him? He kept himself distant as both crews enjoyed the evening, drinking and eating everything away while listening to each other's stories about how they escaped from the Marine. He didn't know what was so funny about all the trouble Luffy has caused despite Garp being his own grandad - but a part of him was glad to see you laughing like that, your smile lighted up the entire room.

Law truly wished he could make you smile in the same way Luffy did, but he just.. couldn't. He was the captain, he had to maintain a composed appearance all the time to maintain the equilibrium of his crew - he just couldn't make a fool of him self in front of his mates, that would be too much; he wasn't even cut out for it. He wasn't cold, but he kept himself distant enough. Not because he didn' care for you or the rest of his cremates, but because he knew better than letting his feelings get in the way. And so he kept silent as the night went on, ignoring how the annoyance he felt in that moment, ignoring how much he wished he was the one to make you laugh, and love, and feel alive and.. he shook his head, trying to get rid of such thoughts.

It's not like you were excluding him either - you always tried to make him engage in a conversation, always looking for his gaze amongst everyone to make sure he was okay, gifting him soft smiles every time you caught him staring at you. When enough booze finally kicked in, you excused yourself from the table and grabbed Law's arm, walking arm in arm with him and exiting the room.

The soft breeze of the night caressed your skin, causing you to snuggle closer to Law.

"What?" he finally asked, enjoying your affectionate gesture and doing his best to not betray himself. His heart was beating stupidly fast now that you were so close to him, and he hated it. He hated how good you made him feel, how stupidly warm his cheek got every time you were near him. He had to let it go - being his cremate was enough, the last thing he wanted was to catch feelings for you. There's no place for love, in piracy.

"When are you going to stop staring at me and actually do something?" you chuckled, teasing him a bit. Leaving his side, you rested your body against the railing of the ship, now facing him.

He raised his eyebrow in response, ready to deny every allegation you were about to make. Shaking your head in disapproval, you took his hands and pulled him closer to you. Sighing loudly, he leaned towards you, his palms now resting on the railings just beside your hips.

Still towering you, his grey eyes stared at you for a second - he wanted to read your mind, to know your intentions. He hated not being able to predict things, but he was too close to you to think straight. Your perfume was completely melting his nervous system, he was sure he was already losing brain cells because all he could think about was you, and your lips, and your body so close to him, so.. unachievable. He remained silent, biting his bottom lip. You were the one physically cornered, but he was the one feeling trapped.

Letting your hand reaching his cheeks, you gently ran your thumb against his skin, the already growing beard tickling you. Getting on your tip toe, you placed a small kiss at the corner of his mouth - and as you did so, you felt his muscled tensing up.

"Maybe this explains it better." you said.

Before you could add anything else to your gesture, Law's hand is on around your jaw - his touch is rough, strong and indelicate as he presses his lips onto yours. He suddenly felt all the tension leaving his body, the jealousy that grew inside him earlier was now just a memory as his lips are hungrily tasting yours. He had wanted you so bad, a part of him wished everyone could see that scene. But he was quick to snap back to his senses, and so he abruptly ripped you away from him, taking a step away from you. Running his sleeve on his lips, he dried your taste away.

"No." he said. "No, we can't do this. I am your captain." he cleared his throat. "This!" he indicated the both you, his finger moving quickly between the two of you, "it's gonna get us killed, or worst, caught by the Marine. I will not risk my cremates' life for this, nor yours, not mine." he concluded, his chest raising up and down frenetically as he exposed on of his fear.

You couldn't help but smile; he was being so mindful, so cute and oh, so dumb.

"Oh so getting caught is worst than dying?" you laughed, closing the distance between the two of you once again and latching your arms around his neck, holding him tight enough to not let him go. "Your underestimating me, your crew, and yourself, captain." you smirked, placing your lips onto him once again.

An irritated moan escaped Law's mouth in reaction, you were sure he rolled his eyes - but you knew he wanted this just as much. Smiling through the kiss, he placed his hands on your waist holding you even tighter, your bodies completely pressed against each other as his lips completely devoured yours. You were all he desired, he wanted every inch of you - he felt like he was starving for all this time.

"I think this insubordination needs to be further discussed.." he whispers biting your lips, a guilty, full of lust smirk on his lips.

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postoctobrist · 1 year

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Dear Alice, A very tragic funny thing happened and it made me think of you so I figured I'd share it. So, my uncle just died. He was a very sad navy mechanic who loved horror movies, working on cars, not sharing his feelings, and baby talking to cats and crying. he died just a few days shy of a year since his dad, my grandad. With this background out of the way: On that saturday, just before it happened, I decided to do a self care. I took 2 20mg edibles and drank a belt of our moonshine, hopped into the shower with a nice beer and some candles and luxuriated. right as I was becoming debilitatingly high, my mother screamed and thats how I found out he had been picked up by the paramedics cos his heart had failed suddenly. my ma tore ass to the hospital and I had to drive myself, high as fuck, through a snowstorm. Alice, I was never in the service. I come from hippie stock. and yet, whenever I get high I catch myself marching and stiffly saluting. when given my grandmothers cane to hold at the hospital, it became a swagger stick. I was the only one coherent enough to negotiate with organ donation, I made the arrangements for the DNR. I watched the eyes of the man as he passed and it was like time had collapsed in on itself. I kept standing at parade rest, I told my mother "we'll get through this trooper." No one seemed to notice how much of a freak I was being. Thankfully, I was able to get things finalized. Anyway, I was sitting in the parking garage at the end of it all at about 2 AM and remembered you saying something about "condition yellow motherfucker" and chuckled. I did manage to get my knife back from the ER security guy as well. Anyway, not looking for condolences and whatnot, just felt the need to tell you this. Hope things are well for you. stay healthy.

I’m sorry but I am weeping laughing. Where did you get the weed that makes you tactical? How do I get some? Always remember, you did your country, your family and the traditions of the service proud. Lt. Col Cooper is proud of you. I am proud of you. Stay frosty. Semper fi or whatever

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thesillyphilly · 5 months

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You know what? I looked basically everywhere and found no swap au of far cry 5 so, IMMA DO IT MY SELF!! 🦅🦅💥💥🇺🇸🗣

The story goes, as i have it for now, you play as joseph seed. In this swap au, the seeds aren't the one's who start the cult but rather the deputies (NOT WHITEHORSE THO, LUV MY FATHER 💥🦅🇺🇸🗣🗣) and Joseph doesn't kill his daughter who i named, "hope seed".

Now, in this au the seeds (the three j's) aren't separated when social services takes them away from their bio parents and end up with a family that rather lives or soon moves to hope country (yes, i wanted to make that their home place). Jacob still leaves for the military but now has family to lean back on, john and Joseph are going through their owns things but while john needs Joseph there for him. Joseph needs to be alone for awhile (no, john was never the reason he left but he needed to leave to get better. If only john knew that). Joseph leaves to the big city where he meets faith (his wife, the first faith) and the story of his before the cult stays the same expect that he raises his daughter. After ten years and no contract at all, he takes hope to his home place. Hope country. But unannounced to him, a cult had made that place home too and a not so friendly event happens the third day he is there and gets his daughter taken away by the cult and the whole game is just you trying to get her back. I didn't realize this was a lot like Resident Evil village till my friend point it out.

Also, some little things

- john works at spread eagle at falls end and is a bar tender

- miller died in action and is buried where grace's dad (or grandad, i don't remember) is. Jacob helps defend it from the cult with her at time to time but whitetails mountain needs his help as well.

- "faith" or really known as rachel jessop is chemistry that has waay to much free time. Just imagine juan from farcry6 but white ig. The uranium duo as i say.

- Rachel is more of a friend then family but they would do anything for her. She and john are friends, cause i say so. Trust ya

I'll talk about the others and the cult later

#far cry 5 #swap au #we meet once more au #Joseph seed #john seed #Jacob seed #faith seed #hope seed #hope country #oc #far cry 5 au

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fablesrose · 1 year

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Leverage Rewrite Ch 1 - Phone Calls

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Words: 3054

Summary: We are introduced to y/n Ford and her relationship with Nate through some phone calls. Takes place directly after the Bank Shot Job and goes through most of season 1.

Warnings: drinking, swearing, canon level stuff

A/n: okay, so I may be up over my head on this one, but here it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ringing of my phone snapped me out of my lackluster concentration. I enjoyed freelancing, I really did, but this job was just not coming along like I wanted it to. I couldn’t even drag my eyes off my laptop to see who was calling me. It was always work related though.

“This is y/n Ford, how can I help you?” I made sure to turn on my best chipper voice, though I could tell my perplexed expression didn’t change.

“Don’t use your customer service voice on me, y/n.” The voice was very familiar and I sighed in relief, turning away from my computer.

“Oh, hey Nate. I didn’t look at the phone, I thought it was work… How are you doing?”

“That’s alright, I’m doing fine. I saw that you called a little while ago, I’m sorry it took awhile, I was working a job.” He sounded tired, but different than the last few times I had talked to him.

“Yeah, I just hadn’t heard from you for a bit, but a job? I didn’t know you were working again. How has that been going? What are you doing?”

It was good that he was getting out and doing things again. He had been in a deep rut since he left I.Y.S and got divorced. And of course since Sam… passed. It has only seemed to get worse after that. I have tried to check in with Nate at least every couple months, more frequently when possible. Sometimes he doesn’t get back to me for a while, which seemed to be the case here. I’ve been worried about him, but maybe this will lead him to the up and up.

“Uh, I’m not sure if I can explain what I’m doing right now, birdie. It uh, it's a bit complicated and maybe more dangerous than you would like…” He sighed, and I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was giving a slight wince at what he said. I smiled, both at hearing him call me the nickname he had given me years ago, as well as his conscientiousness of my feelings.

“Well, I hope you can tell me about it sometime. Are you happy doing it?”

He thought about it for a minute, “yeah, I am. I get to help people.”

“Are you alone? Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got people.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. I still worry some, but you’re a grown man, you can take care of yourself… or should I say old man?” I smirked, knowing that it would bother him a bit.

He barked out half a laugh, “I’ll let that one go. I’m glad you worry about me… You know you’re my favorite niece right?”

It was my turn to laugh sarcastically. “I’m your only niece. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Okay.”

I set the phone down after he hung up. Nate practically raised me. My parents died when I was a kid, an accident, and he was the only family I had left… Or the best family I had left. Grandad Jimmy barely counts. Even with my parents around I was always close with Nate, he always had little puzzles to teach me or games to play. I knew it was hard on him, to take care of me, but we had each other, and it got better. We both had to grow up fast, and when Maggie and then Sam came along, it seemed like the world was giving back a little bit. We were a happy family for a while. I graduated, moved out into the real world, and tried to be to Sam what Nate was to me. It all came crashing down. Nate had his own process though. This was worse than when my parents died, understandably, but I knew he was the only one that could work himself out of it. I try to let him.

My eyes flipped back to my computer from where they were staring at the abandoned phone on the table. I can’t afford to reminisce any longer, I have deadlines to keep.

—---

Across the country, Nate absentmindedly tapped his phone against his knee, thinking. He gingerly moved his right shoulder, trying not to test his stitches too much. The team had just finished up the bank shot job. He knew he needed to take it easy while he healed up from his gunshot wound, but he could feel a slight itch to keep going in the back of his head. To take his mind off of it, he looked back at his phone, thinking of y/n.

He did miss her. Nate knew he had been distant recently and that she worried about him. He felt awful when he thought too hard about it. Here his niece was, worrying about him, a grown man, the one who raised her, who should be worrying about her. It made him want to reach for a drink. The truth was, he didn’t worry about her. Not often anyway. She was every bit of her parents, something Nate was glad for. His older brother was always the better one, he thought. He would have never become… Never become what Nate had, under the circumstances.

He didn’t know what y/n would think about what Nate was doing now. He didn’t want to leave her in the dark, they had always worked together through Nate’s changing careers and her own progression through life. He also knew that this work was dangerous. Nate winced as the stitches pulled a bit as he shifted. He didn’t want her to worry about him more, or worse, get caught up in it if she didn’t have to.

Nate went to pour himself a drink before heading back to rest. He set his phone down at his bedside table, looking at it for a moment longer.

He would find a way to tell her somehow.

—----

It was about a month later when I was getting ready for bed that I got an email to my personal account. I usually don’t check emails this late, but it was from Nate.

Hey birdie, I know it’s late over there and you probably don’t want to work, but I have this script that I need to make sure is believable for an actress. Do you mind looking over it?

Attached was a pretty large file. Opening it up showed that it was around ten pages and it held two scenes. He was right, I didn’t want to, but it was Uncle Nate asking a pretty small favor. I read it through and answered.

So… the scenes themselves are decent, good pacing. Leaving the boy orphaned with the nun and mother dying will be sure to pull some tears. But the overall plot? That’s just awful, I’m sorry. Not sure how you fix that.

It wasn’t too long before I got a reply.

Good enough, thanks.

I sighed as I finished getting ready for bed. I didn’t know what in the world he was doing anymore, but at least he was still alive.

I had started to forget about the interaction when a few days later he called.

“Wow, I hear from you twice in one week? What’s the occasion?”

There was a lot of noise in the background indicating he was in a busy place, “Yeah yeah I just… I finished this job and was thinking about you, so I thought I’d call.”

I smiled, “Appreciated… Is that your job, fighting werewolves with NATO troops? Is that why it's so dangerous?”

He groaned, “Please don’t mention the script, I want to wipe that from my memory. It uh,” he paused, thinking and I could hear some background announcements like he was in an airport or train station. “I was able to help some orphans this job, and… I- I’m just glad that you were able to come live with me, that we had each other when. When your dad passed, and mom.”

I took a moment before answering, “Me too Nate…”

There was a moment of silence when I heard a deeper voice a bit further away from the phone, “Nate, come on, we gotta catch our connection. Last call.”

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

He said a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. It seemed like his new job was exciting, and I was interested in seeing where it took him next… If I could ever figure out what it was.

I started to look forward to his calls even more now, and they happened more frequently as well. I always speculated what little details he would drop about his most recent adventure, if he shared any at all. One call he talked about a wedding and the fiascos behind it, from a woman he worked with that seemed to peeve him at times to appetizers. He insisted that when I got married (after he asked if I wanted to) that he wouldn’t attend if it was going to be a large crap shoot like the one he was just involved with. I simply laughed, I didn’t interject more than that to ask him about it as he was in a rush and clearly exasperated.

The next phone call mentioned the same woman, of whom I learned her name was Sophie. I could tell he was still a bit peeved at her, but there was something else there as well, an interest. I smiled to myself as he talked, but didn’t mention it… yet. There were so many other questions I had about what he was doing now. I finally pried a bit more.

“Nate, come on, you’ve got to give me something. What are you doing, what is this job you are working?”

He paused like he knew it was coming, but still not prepared, “I am the lead of a… consulting team. We help people when no one else will, when no one else can.”

“Well that’s very noble of you Nathan. I’m not getting any more than that right now am I?” I laughed a little bit towards the end.

“Yeah, uh, that is it for now. I’ll tell you more about it some other time.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

The next call was not as cheerful or exciting as the previous ones. I was already coming down with a cold, and another project had hit a standstill because of the lack of cooperation of people within the client’s company. Much more of this and I would back out of the contract. Luckily my contract states that I will get paid for the work completed, not necessarily at completion, and if I have to cancel a contract due to certain circumstances such as lack of cooperation, I get to keep funds in relation to work completed as well as the deposit. In other words, it would be their loss.

I could feel I was developing a headache, but I answered the phone anyway, “Hello?”

“Heyy, how’s it going? I um… I can’t remember why I called…” There was a slight slur in his voice that I immediately picked up on.

“Nate? Are you drunk right now?” I asked accusingly, my headache getting worse.

“What? No… what time is it… maybe.”

I groaned, “Damn it… You said you were getting better. You said you would quit!”

“Hey, I never said that-”

“Am I gonna have to kick your ass to keep you around?”

There was a pause on the other end, “No, Eliot can do that, he said he would keep me in line if he had to.”

“Well…” I took a moment to collect my thoughts, “I don’t know who this Eliot character is, but hopefully he’s good on his word, cuz I don’t want to fly all the way out there for that. I’d rather you stick around for a while.”

“I know.”

I sighed knowing I wouldn’t get much farther with him right now, “Well, sober up a bit. I can’t handle much more right now Nate, I’m getting sick. We both better go get some rest.”

“You’re sick? I’ll ask around for some recipes to help you feel better.”

Before I could stop him and tell him don’t bother, he hung up. I sighed again, stopping to get my bearings before starting the trek to the bathroom to take some medicine.

I had grown a bit lax on Nate with his drinking. I made sure he didn’t drink himself to death after Sam’s death and the divorce, but once he made it to somewhat functioning, I just grew tired. There wasn’t much else I could do, so I figured he could sort himself out when he needed to. That seemed to be the case over the last couple of months. I could tell in his phone calls as they became more frequent that he was drinking less and getting better. I had exaggerated a bit when I said he promised me he would quit. I wish I had made him promise, but I guess it was just a conversation and some hope on my end.

I didn’t know the rest of his team, but I hoped they could help him, or at least keep him on this side of life. Or that he had someone to rely on out there. I felt useless here in Boston while he was out in LA. Maybe I should have moved out there when his life had gone down hill, despite his protests. I could theoretically work anywhere.

I started to slip into sleep as I thought about it. I didn’t fight it.

The next morning I woke up to an email on my phone.

Hey, I’m sorry I called you while drunk. Eliot gave me some soup recipes, hopefully they will help with the cold. Feel better birdie.

Below were the recipes promised. I looked them over, and they all looked really good, and relatively simple to make. This was good as I could feel the congestion in my head was worse than the night before and knew simple would be essential to any new meal the next couple of days. I’d like to meet this Eliot someday.

—---

Over a month later Nate sat in his chair, staring at the drink in his hand reflecting back to the last phone call he had with y/n. He was drunk, and she was clearly upset at him. He hated to admit it, but, while he didn’t want to worry her, he should have felt more guilty about it. For that reason he hasn’t talked to her since he sent that email with Eliot’s recipes.

What an unfortunate coincidence it was when he had to go into rehab with the mark for the next job. His mind kept going back to the group session they had with Sophie talking about the healing power of apologies, or something like that. She asked him if there was anyone he wanted to apologize to for burdening with his drinking problem, highly suggesting to him that he apologize to her and the team. What really got him was when she mouthed the words “like your niece?”

Maybe that’s why he blew up a little. He didn’t need her to be brought up. The fact that Sophie knew so much about him unnerved him sometimes. He thought he kept her underwraps, out of whatever mess Nate found himself in. He obviously needs to brush up on those skills.

—---

I got a somewhat urgent call from Nate, the first one since he called me drunk that night. I was gearing up for a serious talk about his drinking, boundaries, and whatnot. This did not seem to be the case.

“You’ve done mock trials before right?”

That stopped me in my tracks, “in highschool? Yeah, but that was a long time ago, what is going on?”

He explained that he was in a similar situation with him and his team. The plaintiff was a widow whose husband died from taking an energy supplement. She was suing the supplement company, but was not doing well.

“How would you win for this widow?”

I took a moment to think it over, “I mean… You have your three persuasive techniques, logical, emotional, and reputation, to paraphrase. You can either tear down the company and their arguments on these fronts and slash or build up your own. I don’t know all the data behind the supplement or if you have health records for the husband before and after the supplement, but that could help. If you want to go the dirty route you can tear down the credibility of the company and their witnesses and experts…” I hummed and hawed for a bit, still thinking. “Also considering, if this is a jury trial, play into the emotional side, get their sympathy, show that it is someone’s fault that this husband, father? Is he a father? You know, etc etc. Just keep with the triangle, logic, emotion, and credibility. Not sure what else to give you without more research or context.”

I heard a distant voice that said, “That just might work,” suggesting to me that I was on speaker phone.

Nate talked to this other guy, “see, just put on your bowtie and talk to them like you’ve been doing your whole life.” He turned back to the phone and spoke to me, “That’s perfect, thank you, bye.”

He hung up and I just stared at the phone in my hand. What kind of consulting business is this?

I got a call I wasn’t expecting one day from someone I haven’t heard from in a long time.

“Hey y/n, how have you been?”

“Maggie? I’ve been fine, just working freelancing… What’s up?” While she and Nate have been divorced for a couple of years now, she still played a role in my life as an aunt. We definitely drifted apart, but I thought we were both dear to each other.

“That’s good, I’m glad you’ve been doing okay. I do have a favor to ask you though.”

“Okay… What is it?”

“I’d imagine it’s been a while since either of us have gone to a fancy party… What do you say?”

I hated to say it, but she was right. “Tell me when and where.”

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader #maggie collins

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omgpoindexter · 8 months

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my grandad died in august. he loved trains. nobody else in my family really cares about them, and i feel like i should. i don’t want something he loved to die with him. i hope my kids like trains. i hope it lives on in them

#shedding a few tears tonight #maybe i’ll watch some videos about trains :)#shutupmia.txt #ok to rb if u want

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

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Matt Casey- Fight For Us Pt3

Ella is at home with her nanny, a wonderful lady named Zuri, who has been with us since Ella turned 1

"There could be squatters inside" Severide says to dad

"We don't have long on this one" dad replies "YN make sure you and Shay are ready for smoke inhalation victims"

"Got it" I give him and nod. All I can do now is sit back and what the others work. Nervously I watch Matt run into the fire

"The smokes looking pretty bad" next thing I know Matt is walking out with an elderly man. I rush over to him and Matt helps the man sit down

"Your in good hands now. YNs the best of the best" I give Matt a little smile and place an oxygen mask over the man's head while I check for possible burns.

As Herrmann and Mills come out of the building the fire seems to get worse. Mills states that there was someone else in the building and he wants 1 more minute to get the person out. Dad calls it and we all move back just in time as the building collapses.

Unfortunately word gets out that a man died in the fire and now it's all in the news

"Happy Halloween grandad" Ella runs over to dad in her princess costume

"Happy Halloween Princess Ella. Guess what? After school I'm gonna break out a bottomless bowl of treats"

"Yay" she claps before running into the firehouse to say hi to everyone

"How are you holding up?" Dad asks

"Alright I guess" I shrug following dad inside holding Matts hand

"We will be once this is all over with"

"Momma Kelly gave me sweets"

"He did? How lucky. But let's eat them later yeah?"

"You best say by to everyone, mommas gonna take you to school" Matt says looking at the clock

"Hey, Lieutenant Casey, YN I lust

saw your car out front. Something happened to it" Niki says walking in

"Ella stay with grandad a moment" I say following Matt outside with Kelly not far behind me to see our tires slashed

"Damn it" Matt sighs

"You want me to drive Ella to school?" Kelly offers

"Please that would be amazing. I'll see if Zuri can pick her up after school and drop her off here" Kelly walks off to go and get Zuri "Matt?" I nervously say "please tell me this isn't anything to do with Voight"

"It probably some kids messing around. It's Halloween after all"

"Hope your right"

Matt ends up ringing a tow truck for the car, Severide has offered a lift home later while Zuri has picked Ella up from school and brought her to the firehouse

"Thank you Zuri"

"It's no problem I'll see you tomorrow"

"Ok let's tell uncle Kelly your here so we can go trick or treating"

"Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Man down, 3500 block of North Clarke"

"Ok I promise that as soon as I'm back we will go ok"

"Ok" Ella shrugs. I take her to niki and ask if she can watch her for a bit, which she agrees to.

Shay and I jump into the ambo and shay drives to the location. On arrival it's party central. We get out of the ambo and take the gurney out

"Halloween sucks" Shay says looking around at all the fake injuries. Thankfully Matt gets a location on the injured person and we follow him into the crowd. A man is lying on the floor shaking

"Shay take his head. Has he taken any drugs?" I ask a woman who's stood with us

"No, just a couple beers. Then all of a sudden

his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped"

she replies

"Does he have a history of seizures?" Shay asks as I place in an IV line

"I don't think so. But this is only our second date"

"Alright ready turn him over" I say as Cruz slides the back board under him

"Hey, let me help out, fellas.." a man in a fake fireman costume walks over

"Stay back, sir" Matt warns

"Yeah how about givin' me a C-4 tube and lidocaine drip?"

"Let them do their job" Herrmann says standing in the way of the fake fireman and me

"All right, come on! Move it out!" Matt says as Cruz and Hermann lift the man on to the gurney, Shay and I take off to the ambo.

After we arrive back at the firehouse I grab my things and finally take Ella trick or treating while Matt stays at the firehouse just for a few more hours.

#one chicago imagine #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #matt casey imagine #matt casey #matt casey x reader #matt casey x oc

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choirstaidhiona · 1 year

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This Barbie Cries In Public, or I Wish I Could Show My Mum The Barbie Movie

Like everyone else in the world, I recently saw the Barbie Movie! I also saw Oppenheimer, in the cursed double bill of the century, and it's taken me days to process both of them and all the BigFeelingsTM That have come up from both, so in my first actual considered and proper blog post on this website since I was the world's angriest teenager, I'll be sharing them, alongside some thoughts about grief and gender and all that really fun and not miserable at all stuff.

Part 1. Barbie Girl

I was born in 1996, a weirdly large baby constantly dressed in pink and lace and frills, as my mum would say, "a proper girl". I loved dolls; baby dolls, Barbie dolls, Bratz dolls, doll house dolls, paper garland dolls I made whenever i had a sheet of printer paper handy for years of my life, Polly Pockets, those weird off-brand dolls you'd get in corner shops and chemists for some reason, all of them. I loved dolls. I still love dolls. I made a film last year where i painted dolls and animated them and it was sad and about childhood and death and memory. I used to film my Barbie Princess and The Pauper dolls singing together and I made a music video of it on my Karaoke machine, rigged up to my pink TV. I was, in short, A Barbie Girl.

When Bratz appeared in the supermarkets of Greenock, I remember the shift happening really clearly. I was in Primary 5 or 6 and my Grandad had died, Baby's First Big Death, and I drew everyone pictures of the outfits I'd dreamed up for my Bratz dolls, transfixed by their big mouths and big eyes and the way their clothes sat on their bodies. Drawing pictures for people made them happy. Drawing pictures for people made them tell me I was clever. Drawing pictures for people gave me a task and gave me a focus. I loved Bratz dolls because Barbie was too boring. I was getting too old for fairies and princesses (note: I have since regressed), Mattel's fixation of the era, since Barbie had already been a Doctor and a President long before I met her, and I didn't know she had all these cool talents and past careers. To me, she was part of a personal era I was moving on from. Bratz dolls didn't have jobs, they were like Ken from the Barbie movie, but their job wasn't Beach, it was Gorgeous. I don't think it's a coincidence that this was the era I'd been told specifically that there was something wrong with me by other girls for the first time.

I grew up in Gàidhlig Medium Education, a sectioned-off and sheltered part of the Scottish Education System that I owe my life to, I would not have survived, weirdness and spirit intact, in any other school, and I know that for a fact. I'd entered GME at 2 and 10 months old and left school at 18, having only known classrooms where everyone was a bit different because we belonged to this sort of movement of cultural reclamation. My only prolonged interactions with "The English" (the rest of our classmates from the English speaking part of our primary school, the ones not in the Gaelic unit) came at the end of primary school, when we started learning French together as a whole year group. It's not an exaggeration to say that GME kids were bullied appallingly by "The English", including a lot of the old-school teachers. I'll go into this properly another time, but I do think that I saw in Bratz the kind of aspirational teenhood I hoped would be beyond my late primary school experience of being othered- being edgy, wearing cool outfits, having boobs, and most of all, working at gorgeous.

Part 2. Oppenheimer Teen

Think of the most catastrophically annoying and angry kid you knew growing up, that was me. And I lived here, on Tumblr, blogging my early teens away - being not like other girls, then being radicalised by third wave feminism. Learning about queerness, and realising I wasn't just the best ally of life, I actually fancied by best friend. Discovering that the square root of happiness was hunger, (i mean this ironically, it's very much not) and documenting my ever growing thigh gap... all of it. I wanted to tear everything down. I gave this section the title of Oppenheimer Teen because I thought it would be funny, but honestly, I was more like the atomic bomb.

I'd long since been informed that playing with dolls wasn't okay anymore, it was embarrassing and for babies, and the only femininity I was happy to take part in was a half-understood Kinderwhore version of it. Everything i embodied in this era was based on Courtney Love's babydoll dresses, red lips, and bleached hair. The first time I bleached mine, it broke my mum's heart. She had breast cancer and was losing her shiny brown hair, while I was turning mine into custard-coloured chewing gum with 40 vol at the bathroom sink. I didn't want to be pretty because I didn't know how to be without being ridiculed for trying, I was hurt, and I was scared, and my mum was sick and my boyfriend was evil, and Jesus, I was so hungry all the time. Eventually, after about two years of starting fights I couldn't finish, and drinking 70cls of straight vodka while looking men (teenage boys) in the eye, and reading the communist manifesto on the 6am Gourock train home after parties I'm still processing in therapy, my mum got the all-clear. I dumped the boy who was abusing me, who by this time was a grown man, I dyed my hair pink, and green, and blue... and I met the first of the girls who would start to save my life, while we were drawing pictures and dressing up at art camp.

3. Actually Talking About The Barbie Movie

Every year that I haven't been a teenager has been better than the one before, this is something I've told every teenage girl who has ever told me she's worried about growing up, and I've seen a wave of calm wash over her face every time. I really saw myself in the angry, clever, moody group of teenagers Barbie meets in the school canteen when she arrives in our world. Sasha, who I think we've all realised/read by now was named for the Bratz doll along with her friends, tells her she doesn't represent her, she's let her down, she's old news!! This was how pink and sparkly girlishness felt to me at that age, I didn't look like Barbie anymore, and the girls who did were making my life hell. I had acne, and my period lasted three weeks at a time, and being a girl wasn't fun anymore. Everyone just cared about which Ken they were getting off with, meanwhile I'd just realised that death existed, and one day would come back and finish the job and take my mum away, what the fuck was Barbie fucking grinning about?

Her spiralling existential crisis throughout the film was truly jarring, only because I remember those exact moments of girlhood. I remember being 11, lying on the floor and crying and feeling like it would never stop. I remember being 8 and noticing my belly was rounder than the other girls at ballet. I remember sweating after a game of rounders at 10 and realising I stank and feeling like I was malfunctioning. I remember being so angry for a whole year when I was 9 that I wanted to bite people. I remember every time I wasn't being a "proper girl", and how I saw on everyone's face that they felt it too. I remember every time I realised that I wasn't perfect anymore, just like Barbie does, and that I just wasn't the way I was made anymore. And they still feel like fresh wounds, fresh failures, despite what 2012 Tumblr feminism taught me.

I've seen Tiktoks from the current generation of internet teens discussing how the film wasn't radical enough in its feminism, and I get it, to an extent. When you've been an Oppenheimer Teen - fighting boys about how they treat their girlfriends that you're secretly a bit in love with, spending your whole life placing your value in your intelligence and your rage so as not to be someone's Barbie, making online friends all over the world because no one gets you, reading feminist lit while your classmates are excited about YA Fiction - Gloria's monologue, the climax of the film's mission statement, feels like "okay, and??" And as I said, I was Sasha, eviscerating femininity for what it had done to me. But as I grow up, not a (Barbie) Girl, not yet at all a woman (I'm non binary, knowing that is vital to understanding that joke), but also no longer an Oppenheimer Teen, I see the spaces that the powerful, vengeful feminism of my youth is missing.

Every time my friends are mistreated by men who are supposed to love them, there is a beat before they remember who they are where they think they deserve it. We constantly wonder if we're over reacting to our own trauma. We lose weight through grief and are told we look great and we say thank you, and sometimes we mean it. We fear taking up space even though we can't help it. We wonder if we should go for jobs that we aren't technically qualified for, even though we have degrees and years of experience to contradict our gut feelings of inadequacy. We are clever, bright, talented people, but those of us who have a girlhood in our pasts have a unique never-quite-healed injury. It's like a broken ankle from falling off a trampoline when you were 10 that aches in cold weather even now, the ankle you always go over when you're drunk in heels. I didn't know I'd grow up and get less angry. I didn't know I'd pick my battles eventually like everyone kept telling me to at 15, instead of waging war on everyone. I didn't know there would be a day that life would figure out how to make me small. I thought I had shut up the Barbie Girl I once was by outsmarting her, but my heart is still baby pink, strawberry scented, and covered in sparkles, and it always will be.

When i sat there, bathed in pink light, surrounded by mums and daughters, best friends, sisters, queers who never got to be Barbie Girls but desperately wanted to be, grannies, and aunties, and tiny girls who have no idea how much their hearts are about to be broken, I held my friend Isla's hand and i kissed it and wiped tears off my cheeks, because we were all there, together, in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday, living not in a Barbie world, but the real one. The really shit one. And the biggest cinematic event of our lives was telling us we were right, and it wasn't our fault, and we didn't make it all up for attention, we weren't rude or bossy or difficult, we were traumatised and hurt and tired. The children we were who played with dolls, cutting off their hair before we were allowed to mess up our own, had been let down.

4. Still Talking About The Barbie Movie, But Also Talking About My Mum.

Nearly a month ago, my mum died. She had a brain tumour, diagnosed a decade after she had the all clear from breast cancer. These two acts of evil by the universe were unrelated, it wasn't a secondary tumour related to her first one, it was just bad luck. She had been sick for years, and before that she was sick in different ways for years, so it wasn't a shock, but it has forced me into a new era of my life in a way I wasn't ready for. Just like growing up.

My mum was born in poverty in the 1960s in the West of Scotland, and by the time I came along her life was a dreamscape compared to what she had once known. We had a standard, comfortable-enough, but still working-class life, but we lived in her Barbie Dream House. I got my love of clothes and dressing up from her, the colour palette of my life from her, and my internal monologue from her. We spent most of our time together until I moved to Glasgow at 19, even when I was raging and destructive, because she was sick, and because she knew I wasn't going to be that way forever. She had been a wee girl once, too. She knew why I wanted to bite people.

The moment in the Barbie Movie where Ruth Handler says "We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they've come” launched into my chest like a fist and winded me. I was holding my friend Isla's hand at this point, too, she knew why I was crying and she cried too. I know this line was likely intended to be about career and the choices afforded to older women in the past, and the choices afforded now to mothers vs fathers, about the sacrifices of mothers and the love they send their creations, us, off into the world knowing, but my mum's own stillness was suddenly phrased in a new way, and it hurt. I don't want to look back on photos and videos to see where I left her, I want her to be dressed up in pink and glitter to go to the cinema with me. I wanted to cry with her and tell her I loved her for everything she did for me growing up, for putting up with me when I ruined by hair and dressed like a maniac and cost her a fortune in black eyeliner. I wanted to thank her for laughing and agreeing when i told her I wanted to bite people, I wanted to thank her for understanding my hormones were making me shouty and introverted and weird, not my intentions. I don't want to see how far I've come without her, she was supposed to be here.

I wish I could have discussed Gloria's point of view with her, watching her daughter grow up and away from her, in reference to our relationship. I wish we could have agreed we were so glad we got to the other side of that, and that every year I wasn't a teenager was better than the last for her, too. We would have laughed at Weird Barbie because all my dolls looked like her too. She would have remembered stories about my girlhood i'd never heard, she always did when we watched films together, often in her bed while the rain poured outside. The strangest part of losing my mum, has been losing the only witness to my entire life, because no one knows you the way the person who made you, lost you, and got you back knows you.

5. The End

Greta Gerwig has made me cry a lot, mostly about being a daughter to a mum, and growing up, and I love that this film fits solidly into her library, while standing out as an offering to a world that doesn't seek this kind of epiphany out. Barbie's mission as a doll was supposed to be about empowering women and girls, giving girls a role model when women didn't have space in the world to make globally successful films about how brilliant and capable and hurt and injured women are.

It's easy to look back after seeing the film, especially with all the history lessons included, and decide that Ruth Handler won the day with this mission, but I think The Barbie Movie will be the true closing chapter to this objective for Mattel. Isla (my friend whose hands I kept kissing and crying on in the cinema) and I were talking after the film about how kids now aren't growing up with the Barbie we had. They're not getting glamazon, can't stand up for the size of her boobs Barbie, with her yellow hair and a princess dress. They're getting flat footed, representative of them Barbie. She looks like she eats her dinners and she could actually do all the activities she's dressed to do, she's modern, and that's class, it's the next step in the evolution. That means that this film won't give the wee girls we were sat among in the cinema the same gut punches and feelings of nostalgia for girlhood when they grow up that it gave us. Their Barbies are just dolls, pals, they aren't trying to prove anything. There's no "please go further than I ever did, please" in the marketing, we all know we can be whatever we want to be in theory, we've heard it all and we're constantly under pressure to actualise it, like Gloria was talking about.

We've finally caught up to Barbie, we can, in theory, have our own homes and careers, we have the right to our own bank account, we don't, in theory, have to have families if we don't want them, we can be whatever we want, it just really, really fucking hurts trying to get there. And so we meet Barbie, all of us able to actually stand without a giant hand supporting us, Birkenstock to Birkenstock, looking out at what's to come. What's to come, is more of what's been, because we don't have equality, or anything close to it. We are still aching and being traumatised by our world. By the end of the film, Barbie is a real woman, a symbol of this new era Isla and I were talking about. She chose death and cellulite and misogyny over their absences because to feel, and to be real, and to stand with the girls who grew up loving her, is more noble.

I will say though, if there's a vacancy in Barbieland now she's in LA, I have really bad cramp and I'm tired of crying for my mum, so I'll send my CV over if anyone has an in x

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