#i still kinda want them to be tourniquets

[chiquilines]

Miryumi uni au!! Its been ages since ive drawn them and uni aus are so dear to my heart

[verybadatwriting]

The Winged One

Summary: Bucky falls off the train, but HYDRA doesn't catch him. Someone else does.

Warnings: a fall from a great height, descriptions of fever/sickness/infection,

Notes: Uhhh. I guess you get two fics in one day after me not posting in months. I'm open to doing a part 2, if anybody wants that. Reader is a person, but with wings. (They're an Inhuman, which are kinda like the Mutants) Part 2 is out now! :D

Gn!reader

Word Count: 2,765

A train passed by somewhere far overhead. It almost didn’t warrant note, since it happened fairly often. The white of your wings concealed you perfectly in the snowy landscape. You continued walking when all of a sudden you heard an impact somewhere off to your left. Interested, you picked your way through the low shrubbery in that direction.

There, lying on the cold ground, was a man. His whole left arm was all crushed, and he wasn’t conscious. You knelt next to him, and was surprised to discover that his heart was still beating. Unslinging your bag from your shoulder, you tore off the strap and fastened it into a tourniquet around the small bit of arm left. You straightened up as you finished, and started to figure out what to do with him. 

One fear you had was that he could be a Snake Worshiper. Those foul men had been stinking up the area; forcing train tracks into the landscape, scaring off the animals, and crafting forts and encampments into the woods you once hunted in. 

While thinking, you triaged the man. If you decided to help him, you’d need to know what you’re getting yourself into. His left arm was mostly gone, and the rest of his body was littered with bumps and scrapes. There was a fracture in his collarbone, and one particular bruise on his forehead had you worried that he may have a concussion. 

Then his eyes opened.

“Who are,” He began, but the pain hit him and he gasped. You’d been around the surrounding military bases enough to hear the ways the Snake Worshipers talked, and this was not it. They spoke with harsher consonants and longer words. 

“I am here to assist you.” You said, wishing that you had paid closer attention to this language’s flow. You had some key part of the rhythm off, and it seemed to take the man a few seconds to figure out what you meant. Once he comprehended that you weren’t going to hurt him, he seemed to relax, just a little bit.

Snow began to fall again, and you knew time was ticking. If you were going to save this guy, you would have to do something now. You pulled his remaining arm around your shoulders, and began to walk, half dragging him along. He tried his darndest to help, but it still wasn’t easy going. 

A few paces away from your hovel in the side of a hill, he completely gave out and he tumbled to the ground. The snow was really falling now as you grabbed him and dragged with all your might. You opened the door, dragged him inside, and shut it behind you. After you got a fire going, you rolled him near it, and collapsed into bed. You’d deal with him tomorrow. 

It was not long after sunrise when you awoke. You went just outside the door and dug a pot of soup out from under the thick layer of snow. It was fully frozen, so you smashed off two sizable chunks. You left the rest of it in the pot outside, and brought the chunks in with you to melt over the fire.

At some point you became aware that the man was conscious and observing you. You continued on as normal, and dished out the now-hot soup into two bowls. Turning, you set them on the floor between the two of you, and passed him a spoon. 

But when he tried to sit up, he found that his left arm failed to push off from the ground. He glanced down and dropped the spoon. Horror spread across his face as he stared at the empty spot where his arm used to be. His eyes turned to you.

“The fall.” You tried to explain using the man’s language,“Falling.”

“Oh.” He said. He adjusted, and managed to lean against the bed next to him. Looking around, he took in the room for the first time. 

The walls were made of dirt, the bed had a thick quilt, and he was lying on one as well. There was a shoddily made wicker chair in one corner, and a heavy door with a mat rolled up against the cracks to keep the cold from seeping in. Nothing was level or smooth. It was like it had been made by a very inexperienced craftsman. The room was dark, but would have been pitchblack if not for the roaring fire. The room was small enough that one hearth was enough to warm the whole place.

He then looked at you, and you stared back. You were an unkempt, wild looking teen with two giant wings, eating soup out of a homemade bowl and beckoning for him to do the same. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. He found he was insanely hungry, and devoured it.

Seeing that he’d finished his serving, you took his dish and rose to grab him another from the pot out in the snow.

“Wait,” He said, “Kid, where are you going?” But you didn’t understand his words, so you continued on and opened the door. A cold wall of air flooded the room as you left. The man shivered and pulled the blanket closer around him. 

When you came back inside carrying a pot, and set it on the fire, he seemed to understand. After he’d eaten his fill, the pot was empty. It was meant to last you a few more days, but that didn’t really matter. One less man was dead. On that note, you needed to figure out who this guy was.

“I am,” You said, pointing to yourself, “Y/n.”

The man paused for a second, then pointed at you and repeated your name. You nodded. Then he motioned to himself.

“Bucky.”

The next morning, he was well enough to walk, and so he followed you all around and helped with the basic chores of your days. Foraging, checking traps, repairing old things, really anything that was needed. 

After a day or two of trying to figure each other's language out, Bucky seemed to pick the basics of yours and vice versa. When you added this to a little bit of the Snake Worshiper’s language – Which Bucky told you was German – you’d created a strange mash of language. 

As you showed him how to make a hare trap, he inquired about the elephant in the room.

“How did you get those wings?” He asked, “Were you born with them or…?”

“Oh.” You inhaled, “I don’t really remember the story that goes along with them, nor do I like to remember it. All I know is I was born a normal person, then touched a strange rock and was cocooned in it for hours, and when I emerged I had these.

“My mother was concerned, so she brought me to the town’s cleric, who decided it was best if I was left in the woods for nature to reclaim, since I was obviously cursed. My mother didn’t much like that idea, but she had to go along with it. She sent me out here with the barebones supplies I’d need to survive.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky said, “How have you been out here alone?”

“Five winters, give or take.” You replied, “What about you? How did you come to fall from a Snake Worshiper’s train into this valley?”

“Steve – he's the friend I told you about –  Gabe Jones, and I were trying to stop some mad scientist who was on the train. It didn’t go too well.”

“I know.”

“I've been meaning to ask you,” He said, “Do you think it's possible that you could help me get back to my camp?”

“Maybe…” You said, “Let's finish this trap and then I'll show you something.”

“Here it is.” You said, opening a small box you kept on the least crooked shelf. You pulled out an old, faded piece of paper. It was rough around the edges. 

“I’ve been mapping out the actions of any newcomers to the area,” You said, pointing to specific parts of the paper, “Here is where I think your camp is. This thick line is the train tracks. And over in this dark splotch is a Snake Worshiper base.”

“Snake Worshiper… the ones that speak German?” Bucky asked. You nodded. 

“Okay. Where are we on here?” Bucky asked.

“Well…” You sighed, “That's the problem. We're all the way over here.” You poked a spot worryingly close to the Snake Worshiper's base. “And your people's camp is all the way over yonder. It's as far as I've mapped, since I don't have much paper.”

“How long did it take you to map all this?” Bucky asked. 

“It only took me a day's journey to get from home to the – what did you call them? Allies? – base. Sadly for you, I was flying. On foot, that would take close to three days.”

“Should we start preparing for the trip?”

“Of course.”

Hunting, fishing, gathering, even some sewing, was required to prepare. The work went by faster when you had a helping hand, and it gave Bucky a chance to learn how to navigate life with only a single arm.

Everything was almost ready, and you could probably leave in a day or two, but that evening, as you were unwrapping the area where his arm used to be, you noticed it looked strange and had an unpleasant smell.

“Well…” You said, after cleaning the wound, “I think it’s infected. I know some herbs that could help, but it’s a bad one.”

“It was normal this morning.” Bucky said in awe.

“That just means it’s moving fast.”

“How bad is it?”

“I don’t think you’ll survive unless your people have some way of fixing this.” 

“Oh.”

“Our objective doesn’t change, just the degree of urgency.” You said, “We’ve still got to get you back as soon as possible. If it gets worse on the trip, we just have to push through it.”

The next morning, you two were out the door as the sun rose. You had enough food and water to last for the trip, and a sack of herbs that could lessen the infection’s power. He took one dose in the morning. 

That first day of travel was brutal, but not the worst. Occasionally, you’d fly ahead to ensure your navigation was correct. Aside from that, you two walked side by side and talked. It was mostly you asking about his people and his base.

“What’s the food like?”

“It’s not great out here,” He said, “But that’s just because of the war.”

“So there was a time before?”

“Of course!” His face lit up a little as he remembered, and started rambling. “We’d have things like fresh bread, pies, chicken, and meatloaf. Sometimes, as a treat, we’d have pancakes for breakfast. Those were the best days…”

The conversation went on, but over the course of the day his energy decreased and his words became jumbled. His pace slowed, and by the time the sun started to dip beneath the trees, he was barely trudging along. 

As you set up a fire, Bucky was trying to string two hammocks between trees. Eventually, you just told him to sit by the fire and hung them by yourself. You cooked, and then shared a meal with him. He was crashing, fast. To try and combat it, you gave him tea brewed from the herbs, and told him to sleep.

The next morning you packed up the camp, all besides Bucky and his hammock. When you went to wake him he woke up and started incoherently murmuring. He was burning up, sweating, and shivering– definitely in no condition to complete the journey. But you knew if he didn’t make it to his people’s base he wouldn’t make it anywhere.

You wouldn't help him survive this long just to die of an infection in the icy forest. He didn’t survive the fall just for a few days of misery. He didn’t walk a whole day for this. He didn’t learn a whole new language for this. He couldn’t die today.  

So you came up with a plan. After gathering some thin but sturdy strips of wood, you tied them together with strips of your hammock. With a lot of work, you managed to fashion a sort of sled. It had ropes at the front you could pull it from, and a spot for Bucky to lie on top of the bags. 

Carefully, you maneuvered the sled underneath his hammock, and loosened the ropes securing him. He slid down and landed right where he was meant to. He awoke slightly, and looked very confused.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You said, “We’re gonna get you home.”

He seemed to calm down after that. You looped the strap across yourself, and started to pull Bucky across the snow-covered landscape. You swept across the snow, and you barely stopped around noon for a swig of water, to get a bite to eat, and to check on Bucky. He was disoriented, so it took a bit of convincing to get him to drink a few sips of water.

It wasn’t horrible, that first day pulling the sled. Once the sun started to set, you contemplated stopping and sleeping. The pitch darkness surrounded you, so you lit a torch. Shadows flickered at the edges of the light, sometimes looking like a pair of eyes. You wedged the torch into a crack in the ground, to keep it upright while you slept.

You sat Bucky up, and gave him some more water. You wrapped him in as many blankets as you had, then sat at his feet on the edge of the sled. It was deathly cold, but you’d been through this before. During the first few nights after the Cleric had cast you out, you’d figured out that you could tuck your knees to your chest and shield yourself from the cold with your wings.

About halfway through the night you were awoken by a gagging sound. Turns out, Bucky’s infection had gotten worse, his fever raged on, and he was now heaving up the few sips of water he’d had. You sat him up and turned him so he would throw up into the snow, and not choke.

After you were reasonably sure he was done, you decided to continue onwards, despite the night. You grabbed the now long extinguished torch and pushed off the ground into the sky to see if you recognized anything. 

Far ahead, there was a river. If you moved fast, you could probably reach it by dawn. Then you could stop for a bit, refill water and such. You enjoyed the air swirling around you, making you feel weightless. But you knew you had to descend sooner or later. You dipped your wings, and glided downwards. To combat the forward motion, you angled them to swoop in a slow spiral.

Landing softly, you checked on Bucky once again. His arm was much worse. You cleaned it, applied more herbs, and wrapped it back up. It looked quite painful, and you could only hope that he couldn’t feel it through his feverish sleep. 

All day was spent sprinting through the forest. Night fell, and you could tell you were drawing close to the Allied base. The shrubs were growing sparse, and the smells of humanity wafted through the air. Right when the camp was in view, you stopped. Shrouded in darkness and trees, you unhooked yourself from the sled. 

Taking one loop of Bucky’s hammock in each hand, you rose steeply into the air. From above, the camp seemed like a maze of tents. You searched for a symbol of a red ‘x’ on its side, which Bucky had told you was the doctor’s emblem. After spying a tent bearing the sign, you awkwardly descended to the ground. 

You untangled Bucky from the hammock, and balled it up. He hadn’t gained consciousness all day. His only hope was the doctors here.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you knelt next to him.

“Goodbye.” You whispered, “Thank you for being my friend.” You took a large stick and banged it against the metal pole of the tent to draw attention to him before you flew away. As you soared into the woods, you glanced back. People streamed over, and you could barely see them taking Bucky into the tent.

After bringing the sled deeper into the woods, you set off for home.

Part 2

[corrodedseraphine]

angel's touch | one shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

fic based on the request from @mylovelycrazyworld, thank you dear I really hope you won't be dissapointed!

request: I wanted to request an Eddie x fem reader fic, like the reader's love language is touch and words of affirmation and eddie is still a bit new to it, kinda have a small fight cause of miscommunication but eddie realizes that he needs to make it up to her with something very special (you choose what cause i trust you 100%) and a fluffy ending please 🥹 angst/fluff, established relationship

TW: mentions of near-death experience in the Upside Down, blood, pain

3 932 words

the one shot is also avaliable on ao3

It is my frist request ever, so you can only imagine how happy I felt when I got it, damn 😭 When it comes to the song... I wrote it myself, so it is okay if you don't like it, you can always pretend it is any other song you like!

eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

"Don't...let go." he choked out feeling that these were his last breaths. You were lying on the cold ground holding him in your arms after he decided to become monster bait. The words were coming out of his mouth accompanied by blood, you had to do something to keep him from bleeding out.

"I won't let go baby, never," you said. "And I'm sorry..."

"For w-what?"

"Dustin, help me." You said, tearing the sleeves off your shirt. "Bring a sheet from the trailer." The boy wordlessly ran to where you ordered. "I am so sorry baby, but I have to. I am so sorry." You started making makeshift tourniquets out of the material you had. You pressed a large piece of sheet to the larger wound on his abdomen, pressing down with all your strength. The pain that spread throughout Eddie's body was unimaginable. His screams and begging you to stop spread throughout the area, but he did not have the strength to defend himself. Dustin watched it all with horror. Tears flowed from your eyes as you kept saying how sorry you were, that you didn't want to hurt him but that you had to, that you saw no other way out, that he had to hold on until the others would return and they could help you pull him to the other side.

"P-please... stop," those were his last words before losing consciousness. 

"Steve! Steve Faster!" shouted Dustin seeing them running from afar.

The following events passed by at a rapid pace. As soon as you got on the good side of the trailer you immediately sped off toward the hospital where you spent almost every day for the next few weeks. 

You didn't leave Eddie's side for a second, constantly holding his hand and telling him how much you loved him and how important he was to you. It was only the beginning of your relationship when all the chaos happened. Time flew by and the wounds on his body slowly began to heal and no longer hurt as much as they did. He joked that he would rather go back to the Upside Down than return to the hell known as Hawkins High, but the two of you agreed that on the first day you would wait for him outside the building, and that's exactly what happened. Filled with anxiety and nervousness, he was approaching the entrance when he heard your voice.

"Eddie, baby!" you shouted running toward him, then hugged and kissed him on his healthy cheek. Feeling your touch he stiffened sensing even more stress. When he looked around he saw that everyone was watching you. Feeling the panic rising in him he moved away. "Are you okay?" you asked seeing his reaction.

"Yes, just wounds... y'know sometimes they still hurt." he lied.

"Sorry..." you said grabbing his hand. "Ready to go back?" you asked wanting to change the subject.

"No." He sighed.

"It'll be fine, let's go." As you proudly stepped through the hallway holding your boyfriend's hand, Eddie felt the stares of others burn new holes in his body. In the past, it wouldn't have bothered him. He used to do everything to be the center of attention himself, but now he dreamed of getting away from that place as soon as possible and never coming back. He only lasted two lessons that day. The second was with difficulty when he sat behind the cheerleaders who gossiped too loudly about him.

"Did you see the wound on his face?" asked one.

"They say he has them all over his body..." 

"Gross. I don't know how y/n can stand it. I bet when he fucks her it's only in the dark."

"Maybe he has scars there too?" the blonde smirked.

"Poor y/n...I don't know what she sees in that freak. I was already shocked from the start, and now after coming back? She still looks in love, did you see the way she looks at him? She snuggles up to him every minute, if she could she wouldn't let him out of her arms."

"Maybe he's giving her some kind of drugs, some strange love potion, or has actually made a pact with Satan. Who knows."

"Jessie, stop watching movies, because you're seriously out of your mind..."

"I heard that Marcus wants to try to ask her out and get her away from the freak and his scars. What do you think she'll agree?"

"Marcus is a definite hottie. Who wouldn't agree?"

That was an overkill. Hearing what they were saying his heart was beating faster and faster and getting more and more breathless. He struggled to hold on until the bell rang, and when it finally sounded he was the first to run out of the classroom, where you were waiting for him right by the door. You greeted him with a broad smile but he could not reciprocate it. Immediately recognizing that something was wrong you asked what happened but he didn't want to tell you. All he did was to say that he felt sick and had to go home as soon as possible. You offered to go with him right away but the "no" from his mouth came out too quickly and aggressively. Shocked, you agreed thinking that he simply needed some time alone to rest. When he returned home what was happening to him could not be called rest.

He was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and trying to deal with the thoughts that were coming into his head. It was a real storm. Eddie never had anyone who wanted to hold his hand in public places. He never had anyone who dropped everything just to hug him. No one was ever happy to see him, no one was ever brave enough to give him pet names and kiss his cheek in front of other people. Later he met Dustin and Mike, who introduced him to you. Something instantly sparked between the two of you, and at the very beginning he himself did not want to let you out of his arms for a second. Eddie who constantly called you his princess, Eddie who every now and then did everything to be as close as possible to you and steal a little kiss from you, Eddie who during lunch wouldn't let you sit on the bench saying that your place was unquestionably on his knee... Eddie who didn't expect you to start doing the same towards him. He was used to being the only person in any relationship who makes an effort. For him it was normal, he gives all of himself and the other person only takes, so when you, in addition to taking, began to give him love and affection he did not know how to behave. It was new to him and in a way frightening. But after all, this is how a normal, happy relationship should be, right? When it's both sides making an effort, not just one. So what was wrong with him? Why did sometimes your affecionate touch burned him? Why was it that sometimes when you touched his abdomen he felt that piercing pain again like that time in the Upside Down when you tried to somehow stop his bleeding?

The next day at school passed similarly, during breaks you didn't leave his side still holding his hand, and when it came time for the first lunch after his return you took your standard place on his lap wrapping your arms around his neck, placing small kisses on his face from time to time. The eyes of the entire cafeteria were once again on you, people whispered to each other without taking their eyes off. Eddie felt that he was about to choke, with all his might he tried to act normal, but he couldn't, he felt too overwhelmed, so he was relieved when Robin called out to you from the other end of the cafeteria.

"I'll go to her, okay?" you asked.

"Sure." he replied forcing himself to smile.

"Are you sure, you okay?"

"Yeah." he shrugged his shoulders.

"See you later, baby. I love you." You kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

"I think I'm about to puke." Gareth laughed. "See you later, baby. I love you." he began to tease you in a high-pitched tone. He always did, the whole Hellfire always laughed at you, but never in a bad way. The truth was that everyone was rooting for your relationship, and the teasing was purely friendly. The former Eddie laughed it off pointing out to them that they were pathetic jealous people but now he didn't respond with anything.

For the rest of the day he was quiet, far too quiet and despite the fact that you tried to talk to him he would not explain anything. You spent the whole day wondering what was going on and worried that it might be related to the Upside Down. What if Vecna still had access to Eddie's mind and was trying to mess with his head? Unable to sit still, you quickly headed toward Forest Hill Trailer Park. There you found Eddie sitting on the steps looking at the evening sky.

"What are you doing here?" he asked surprised when you approached him.

"We need to talk Eddie, I need to know what's going on with you, is it Henry? Do you still feel his presence? Do you have visions?" the worry was painfully evident on your face.

"I'm fine." he muttered focusing his gaze on the ground.

"No you are not Eddie, stop lying to me!" your nerves were slowly taking over you. You would do anything to help him, so why didn't he want to let you?

"It's just... too much!" he shouted hearing your nervous tone. "Too fucking much! You are... You are suffocating me y/n..." That was the moment he cracked. "You're always too close, you don't leave me an inch, I- I don't know!"

"But... you asked me not to let you go." you were in shock, the fact that you were the reason for his upset was breaking your heart. Tears streamed into your eyes, you couldn't believe that all along you had been living in the belief that your behavior was a sign of the love you felt for him and not something to overwhelm him.

"Sometimes it feels like I can't breathe, sometimes when you touch me I feel the same damn pain as the other night when..."

"Do you think I wanted to hurt you? Eddie you were bleeding out! I had to do anything to save you!"

"People keep staring at us, laughing at us, talking shit about us!"

"And since when do you care what a bunch of assholes from school think? You never cared!"

"I know and I am sorry okay? I am trying to be normal I am really trying, but I can't!" his voice slowly began to break too.

"I'm sorry Eddie, I'm sorry for every moment I made you feel bad..." You felt like taking him in your arms and kissing away all the pain he was feeling, just like you did before, but this time you couldn't. It hurt you even more.

"I just needs some time... some space." He said more calmly. "Can we do this?" he grabbed your hand.

"Of course we can." You whispered squeezing his a little tighter. That must have been enough. "See you at school, Eddie. I love you." No matter how much difficulty it took you, you had to adjust. You couldn't stand any more moments where you had to make him uncomfortable.

"I love you too..." he replied feeling the weight fall from his shoulders. 

The next few days were a huge challenge for you. You put all your strength into keeping your showing of affection to a minimum. Now if you hugged, held hands or anything else, it was always Eddie who took the initiative. Terrified of starting to overwhelm him again, you stopped taking the first steps. And Eddie? did not feel good about it at all. And he hated himself even more. You were no longer waiting for him before entering the school, and your pleased voice at the sight of him was not the first thing he heard. Walking down the school corridor without holding your hand, he felt even more lost than before. Eating lunch you sat on the bench next to him, not feeling your weight on his lap he nervously shook his leg under the table feeling cold. When the two of you met for movie marathons you took a seat on the opposite side of the couch. When you were going somewhere together and he was driving your hand didn't play with his hair or gently stroked his neck as you used to always do. All pet names disappeared and only Eddie remained. Only Eddie who lost the only warmth in his life at his very request. After all, he was the one who wanted it, he himself asked you to give him space, so you respected it.

One day when you decided to have lunch with Robin he noticed Marcus walking towards you. He knew well why he was going, he knew well what was about to happen. He watched with a tightened throat as you smiled the whole time while talking. Unfortunately, it was too noisy in the cafeteria to hear exactly what you were saying and lip reading was never something he was good at. Your conversation lasted less than two minutes, when Marcus walked away from your table you stood up and moved straight towards Eddie asking him to talk. With a pounding heart he motioned for you to follow him into the hallway, where he found silence between you.

"So this is how it ends, huh?" he asked sadly feeling his heart breaking.

"What are you talking about?" you asked surprised.

"I saw you talking to Marcus, he asked you out... Listen, I really want you to be happy, I know I'm not good enough-"

"Jesus Eddie!" you exclaimed. "How could you even think I said yes?"

"Because he looks much better than me? He is better!"

"Maybe Marcus looks good, but he will never be as handsome to me as you are Eddie." You walked closer to him. "With or without scars, you're the only one I can see." You raised your hand wanting to stroke his cheek but halfway stopped yourself by withdrawing your hand. Seeing this, Eddie felt like crying, he wanted to take back all the words from that night. He needed your closeness again, he needed your warmth, he needed you. "I know there have been some misunderstandings between us lately..." you continued. "But I still love you and I have no intention of stopping. That's why I want to do everything I can to make you feel happy again."

"I love you too." he replied quickly taking you in his arms. Surprised by this gesture, you reciprocated the embrace with pleasure enjoying the momentum of intimacy that had been scarce between you lately.

"Have fun at the rehearsal with the guys okay?" you said pulling away from him with a slight smile.

"I will." he replied reciprocating the smile. "Can I call you when we're done?"

"I'll be waiting."

When you went back to the cafeteria, you returned to your seat next to Robin, causing him to be overwhelmed by feelings of longing again.

After classes, he and the boys drove to Gareth's house to practice before the show after the long break they'd had. Eddie could not get into the rhythm at all, constantly messing up the chords he had enough after the first twenty minutes. Resigned, he put the guitar aside and sat down on the old couch that Gareth kept in the garage.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" asked Jeff crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'd like to know myself." he replied irritably. "I don't understand anything anymore, I don't understand myself."

"Dude, something really must have happened, the distance between you and y/n hurts." Gareth sat down next to him handing him a beer. "We are your friends, we want to help."

Convinced by his friend's words, he told them everything he felt when from the day he returned to school, about hearing what the cheerleaders said, about your first little argument and today's conversation after Marcus asked you out. "I just don't understand it. First I couldn't stand her closeness and now it's the only thing I really need. Every time she showed me in any way that she cared about me I couldn't get rid of that voice in my head that kept telling me I didn't deserve it." He sighed grabbing a small cushion and hid his face in it.

"I think we just found your problem." Jeff commented.

"What?"

"First of all, y/n is the first girl in all of God's world who proudly showed you and everyone around her how much she loves you," he said.

"And you guys kept making fun of it," Eddie answered.

"Just because we laughed doesn't mean it was wrong! Dude, you don't even know how much I would give to find someone who would look at me the way she looks at you." commented Simon.

"Maybe at first you actually felt overwhelmed, but then I think it was more about that voice in your head." Jeff concluded.

"Yeah, a girl can be the best kisser in the whole world but if my brain sabotaged it all every time by telling me that I don't deserve it then I would go mental." Simon added.

"Remember this moment you old asshole, because I won't repeat it again." Gareth got up from the couch and faced his friend. "You, Eddie Munson, are my friend and you deserve love. You damn well deserve it. So accept it because this girl is capable of giving you the most genuine love that exists." Gareth was right, you weren't the problem, as he thought at first. Feeling his remorse eating away at him, he knew he had to make it up to you somehow.

"What can I do for her?" he asked aloud more to himself than to the others.

"It's actually very simple. Do something that you always do best, write your girl a song." said Simon throwing a pen at him.

Quite a crowd gathered for the first Corroded Coffin concert after the break. Most came here out of curiosity to see if all the rumors about Eddie's appearance were true. For the first time in his life he felt like running away from there. He felt his nerves tying a knot in his stomach and his legs refusing to obey him to go out on stage.

"Come on dude, you've got this." Gareth said putting his arm around him. We will owe this stage as always."

Munson took a deep breath and, along with the rest of the band, walked onto the stage. They were greeted by loud applause and cheers from you and your friends. The first song didn't go too well, as stress seemed to win over Eddie and his shaky fingers had trouble hitting the right strings, but the more he played the more at ease he felt. You sat in the front row and looked at him with a smile on your lips. It was obvious how proud you were of him. Focusing his eyes only on you, he began to calm down until he finally managed to feel like he was in his own element again. When it came time for the last song, instead of immediately starting to play on, he approached the microphone.

"The last song is brand new. It's dedicated to the most important person in my life. For my angel who is now sitting right in front of me." He pointed his finger at you, and you could feel yourself blushing in shock. The initial quiet sounds of the guitar echoed around the room and after a while Eddie's voice joined in.

Have you ever wondered  How does it feel  When you meet an angel? Your soul lost in the purgatory Wandering without purpose 

And then you see her Not knowing why she chose you She takes you in her arms And the devil on your shoulder is screaming to your ear That you don't deserve it 

Her touch can heal your wounds  With bare hands she can fight death She will snach you out of Grim Reaper's claws Your broken and shattered sould is on fire You feel lost and you don't know what to do Ange's touch burns Angels touch can bring you back to life

Have you ever wondered  How does it feel  when an angel loves you? You hear all the demons whispering  That it's not right

And then she kisses you Not knowing why she chose you Her lips are drinking the sadness away from yours  And now you know  She is the only one you need 

Her touch can heal your wounds  With bare hands she can fight death She will snach you out of Grim Reaper's claws Your broken and shattered sould is on fire You feel lost and you don't know what to do Ange's touch burns Angels touch can bring you back to life

You can be a fool You can be a coward  You can feel not worthy anything  But when you feel her love you can't resist  Lost in the chaos without a map You can only hope that your angel will take your hand  and together you will find a way out

Her touch can heal your wounds  With bare hands she can fight death She will snach you out of Grim Reaper's claws Your broken and shattered sould is on fire You feel lost and you don't know what to do Ange's touch burns Angels touch can bring you back to life

You don't know when tears began to fly down your cheeks. When the song came to an end you quickly got up from your seat and ran towards him, unable to stand it you threw yourself straight into his arms.

"I'm sorry I had to." you muttered into his neck.

"It's okay baby, I am sorry too." he replied while squeezing you even tighter. "I missed it so fucking much."

"Me too, baby."

"Can we go back to this? I'm sorry for everything, I thought it was your fault but the problem was in my head. Every time you were showing me your feelings I kept thinking you didn't deserve it."

"Eddie, you deserve the best I want you to know that. I want you to always remember how much I love you, I want you to always feel that."

"Will we figure this out? Together?" he asked uncertainly.

"Together." You replied pulling him to you and kissing him. Feeling his taste after so long and his soft lips on yours, you found it too hard to pull away.

"Disgusting!" Gareth shouted, throwing a drumstick at Eddie.

"Shut up, you jealous asshole." this time Eddie laughed and showed his middle finger. "You are my angel..." he whispered. "And I love you."

"And I love you, my silly little lost soul." you laughed.

In every relationship sooner or later problems arise, now you knew that no matter how hard they can be you and Eddie would fight for your love as a team.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple

[whumpsmith-participates]

Medwhump May 2024

Day 6 - Doctor turned patient

Kinda a continuation of Day 2

TW: Fetch being Fetch honestly— Ok serious TW: minor whumpee (16), whumper turned whumpee -ish, verbal abuse, tobacco (mentioned)

@medwhumpmay

Fetch still liked to call himself a doctor. Not having a license was merely a technicality and didn't take away from the fact that he spent years studying all the ins and outs of human anatomy. And do you know that saying how doctors make the worst patients? — Well, Fetch was definitely still a doctor in that regard.

Erick was pretty much fed up the moment they made it home. Fetch had somehow survived two hours without treatment after being shot in the thigh and bleeding from his artery past a badly-placed tourniquet, and he seemed determined to make that everyone's problem. And specifically Erick's, since he was the only one around after Tito's men helped them get home.

With his leg injured, Fetch was unable to stand without help, and was pretty much confined to bed, having to rely on Erick to get his needs met, yet he was acting like he wasn't almost completely reliant on the teen. Telling him off when he didn't respond fast enough, complaining about his wound care, and generally just having no manners at all.

"What took you so long?" Fetch snapped when Erick walked in with the coffee he requested.

Erick stopped in the door opening, throwing Fetch a look.

"I didn't take that long," he said, "if you're going to be so ungrateful I could also just stop making coffee for you altogether."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Fetch asked.

"I know, I know, attitude," Erick said, "what are you going to do about it? You can't even stand without my help."

"Get over here," Fetch ordered, but Erick didn't move.

"No."

"The fuck you mean, no?" Fetch asked, "get your ungrateful lil ass over here or—"

"I'm ungrateful?" Erick asked, appalled, "I saved your life! If I hadn't called Mr Rana when you passed out—"

"Oh yeah, wow, you made one phone call," Fetch said sarcastically, "what do you want? A sticker?"

"How about a "thank you?"" Erick said, "you haven't thanked me even once since I drove you to the middle of nowhere, cleaned your blood out from the van, I make you food and drinks, I help you get to the bathroom, and I've been dressing your wound!"

"So what? Do you want me to start listing everything I've done for you?" Fetch said, "because that's a significantly longer list!"

"And how many things on that list have I thanked you for?" Erick countered, "every. Single. One of them! I let you order me around to try and make up for it too, but I've had it! Make your own fucking coffee if I'm too slow."

"Erick—"

SLAM!

Honestly, he didn't mean to close the door that hard, but it seemed like a good closing argument at the time. Especially when Fetch started yelling at him through the door.

"Erick when I get out of this bed you're dead! You hear me? ERICK!"

Erick ignored him, heading back into the kitchen and pouring some milk into the coffee so he could drink it himself. In hindsight he probably shouldn't have stormed out, but on the other hand, it was probably safer to wait until Fetch had cooled down first. He almost hurried back when he heard a distinct thud coming from the bedroom, but he didn't even need to convince himself to stop as Fetch immediately began cussing at him. As if it was his fault that he tried to get out of bed without help.

After he finished the coffee, he looked at the pile of dishes in the sink and decided to start cleaning those to pass the time. He had half a mind to just go for a walk, but that might just cause Fetch to get even angrier instead of calming down like he hoped he would.

After finishing the dishes, he listened for any more yelling, but it seemed Fetch had at least settled down a bit. Erick sighed, taking a moment to gather some courage before going to check on him. He tried to approach the door to the bedroom quietly, but the floor had the annoying tendency to creak under his weight at the worst moments.

"Erick!" Fetch immediatelly snapped from the other side of the door, "open this goddamn door! If you think I'm going to shout any apologies through a door you'll have another thing coming!"

Erick rolled his eyes, before pushing the door open. Unsurprisingly, Fetch was lying next to his bed, half trying to sit up on his good leg.

"About time," he said, "help me up."

Erick didn't move, nor did he respond. Fetch glared daggers at him.

"Help me up, please." he said through gritted teeth.

Erick strongly suspected he could get hurt, but not helping him up after he so painstakingly said "please" would just be plain mean. He nodded, stepping further into the room and carefully helping Fetch up, letting him lean on him so he could get high enough to drop himself back onto the bed. So far so good, until Fetch kicked at him with his good leg.

"Ow! That's your thanks?"

"Shut the hell up," Fetch said, "you have no right—"

"I'm doing the best I can!" Erick said, "Is it too much to ask for a little patience? It's not like you have other places to be."

"It'd be easier to be a little more patient if you would get me my goddamn smokes," Fetch grumbled.

"I'm sixteen! Who in his right mind would sell me cigarettes?" Erick said, "just hang in there for one more week and then you can try walking to the corner store to buy them yourself."

"For fuck's sake— Just stop talking back and get me that coffee. Please."

"I'll make you a fresh pot," Erick said, "if you can survive the wait."

"Fuck off, Erick!"

"Actually, I just remembered we're out of coffee," Erick said, "so I'll have to walk to the corner store and buy some first. Do you need to use the bathroom before I go?"

"...Fine."

"That's too bad then," Erick said, stepping out of the room again.

"God dammit— When I get out of this bed I'll—"

"I know, I know, you'll kill me," Erick said, finding Fetch's wallet on the kitchen table and taking some money out, "do we need anything else while I'm going to the store anyway?"

"...The first-aid kit can probably use a refill by now," Fetch replied.

Erick could tell he was seething, but there was nothing he could do in this state, and Erick caught himself enjoying it. He would probably come to regret it once Fetch had the strength to punish him again, but for now...for now he might as well enjoy it.

"I promise I'll be right back, okay? Please don't try to get up on your own again," he said, pausing in the doorway again on his way out.

"I hope you get run over," Fetch said.

"Sure you do," Erick said sarcastically, before taking off.

Erick finally gets a little bit of retribution, as a treat.

Yes this will catch up to him later, but for now we can all enjoy it :)

I was gonna include a whole bit of Erick changing his dressing too, but idk it felt a bit too intimate and that's NOT the kind of relationship they have and it felt super awkward so I decided against it. Maybe some other time, idk.

Masterlist Main account

[partypoisxn]

GIMME SOME SONG RECOMMENDATIONS PLSSS <333

YIPPEEE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE EVER BEEN ASKED FOR SONG RECS!!!!!

Drella - Pierce The Veil

Diamonds And Why Men Buy Them - Pierce The Veil

The Balcony Scene - Pierce The Veil

Floral and Fading - Pierce The Veil

Today I Saw The Whole World - Pierce The Veil

I'm Not a Vampire - Falling In Reverse

Tourniquet - Evanescence

Going Under - Evanescence

If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn - Sleeping With Sirens

Time To Dance - Panic! At The Disco

The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage - Panic! At The Disco

London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines - Panic! At The Disco

I Constantly Thank God For Esteban - Panic! At The Disco

Hospital - The Used

I Don't Care - Fall Out Boy

Vampire Girl - Misfits

Scream- Misfits

Dig Up Her Bones - Misfits

It's Not A Fashion Statement, It's A Deathwish - My Chemical Romance (you most likely know this one but it's still a bop)

Boy Division - My Chemical Romance (again, you probably know this one but it's a banger)

Not That Kinda Girl - My Chemical Romance

SORRY THAT THE LIST IS SO LONG, BUT I HAVE MORE IF YOU WANT THEM!!!!

AND IM SORRY IF YOU ALREADY KNOW SOME OF THESE!!!!!

I HOPE YOU LIKE THE SONGS <3333

[le-scenariste]

Okay so I've started watching Blacklist with my parents while we eat dinner and shit, right ?

We watched ep9 tonight (Anslo whatever the fuck) and ofc my dad's complaining cuz trust but my mom was also saying how some parts of the dialogue was so bad.

Meanwhile my queer ass is watching the same scenes going "do they not see ??? The homoerotic tension ???????" Like...they really didn't need to have Ressler and Red interact like that AND YET !

"Why not let them have me, Donald ? I'll likely be tortured for weeks and left to rot until they finally deign to put a bullet in my skull. Wouldn't that please you ?"

"Youre an adjunct informant for the FBI, Reddington. That means you're my responsibility. That means I fight for your life regardless of how badly I want to take it."

THAT WAS RHE DIALOGUE. WHILE THEY WERE STANDING INCHES AWAY FROM EACH OTHER !!!! IT'S NOT BAD DIALOGUE IF YOU LOOK FOR THE HOMOEROTICISM !!!!!!!

AND THEN...RESSLER (FBI agent, first name Donald) GETS SHOT. AND RED(dington) DRAGS RESSLER AROUND AND KEEPS HIM FROM BLEEDING OUT. sort of.

"Donald, never let it be said that I valued a Zegna Venticinque tie over human life, even yours."

Like, I know Red obviously has his own set of morals and shit but he's also aware of the luxurious life his criminal activity brings him and how that may appear as disregard for others entirely. (although apparently you should not be tourniqueting a leg which is exactly what is happening in that scene)

And then Red gives Ressler a fuckin blood transfusion while they're trapped in a glass and metal box together. AND MORE DIALOGUE

"I know you don't think much of me but you don't get assigned a case file like yours unless you pass muster."

[...]

"You were engaged."

"To her, yeah. But it was my engagement with you that ended that relationship. Five years, I chased you. Five years trying to make my name."

If that ain't some enemies to lovers shit jfc. They did not have to word it like that but goddamn. Like...it's kinda implied from the beginning that Ressler's kinda pissed that some new person managed to get this world class criminal he's been chasing for years to finally give himself up without even realising. Ressler has spent YEARS tryna take down Red and now Red is currently saving his life. Literally enemies to lovers my god.

Again, that ain't bad dialogue if you stop looking at it from that boring ass Straight�� pov. I mean yeah it probably wasn't on purpose but still.

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptember 2023, Day 11

“There’s nothing else I can do”

Last resort | Character death | Medical whump

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~1490 words

CW: probably wrong medical procedure based on my own limited medical training and experience, wishing for death, blood, implied knife wounds, technical medical talk, mentioned past torture, brainwashed whumpee, medical malpractice (but the good kind ig?), needles

(Continued from Day 10: What Are You Doing To Them. Turns out Detective does save Whumpee after all. kinda. heh.)

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

Where… where was Whumpee? This was all much too white, much too bright. New noises pounded on their eardrums. Weren’t they supposed to be dead? Hanging limply by their wrists, crimson red blotting out their dark flesh so that it was practically a second skin? So good and pretty for Whumper, because they couldn’t struggle anymore and couldn’t be entertaining anymore, so dead was the only way Whumpee could make Whumper happy? They were supposed to be dead. They wanted to be. That was the only way they could be useful now.

Something was poking and prodding at them. Multiple somethings, multiple someones. Whumpee shifted uncomfortably and tried to move away, only to find they couldn’t. Straps. They were strapped to a bed, and the bed was jostling around. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Every slight movement exacerbated their dizziness. 

Had Whumper decided to keep them alive after all? Maybe this was just some new form of torture. That must be why Whumper put some sort of face mask on them. Poison, maybe. Whumpee would gladly take it. Even if their wounds made them so, so weak, even if the bright lights made them want to scream, even if they could barely feel what was happening to their body, even if the flurry of movement around them confused them, especially the agonizing poking and prodding. 

Even if some dark horrible part of their heart fluttered because maybe, just maybe, Whumpee was being saved. If only… No, no, Whumpee didn’t want to be saved. Whumpee wanted to please Whumper and be good for them. That was their only job in life.

Was Whumper even here? They usually liked to talk while torturing Whumpee.

No, Whumpee was good. Whatever Whumper wanted, Whumpee would do, even if this wasn’t their usual style. They would take it because they had to, and they wanted to. They wanted to. They would always take it, always, always, always, always, always…

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

Detective frantically patted Whumpee’s cheek, and their eyelids twitched open again. Barely. One of the EMTs shoved Detective out of the way with an understandably authoritative “Move,” and got to work wiping off a staggering amount of crimson just from the crook of Whumpee’s elbow. They quickly placed and taped down the IV before readjusting the oxygen mask on Whumpee’s face for the third time, as the other EMT worked on staunching the blood endlessly gushing from the various gaping gashes and stab wounds all over their body. 

“They’re losing too much blood, tourniquet and elevate the limbs more and focus on stitching and pressure on the torso and head.”

Detective leaned back into the corner as much as they could. They almost wished they hadn’t climbed into the ambulance. They almost wished they’d listened as the personnel yelled at them to get out, before Detective’s determined glare and crossed arms made them decide it wasn’t worth trying to force Detective out when time was already a very precious and very quickly dwindling resource. Almost. 

They smiled to themself, despite everything. If nothing else, even if Whumpee didn’t end up pulling through, at least they had made that sick sadist pay. A mist of red spraying to the walls. A second bullet. That was all Detective could have wanted.

Whumpee shuddered on the gurney, momentarily thrashing under their restraints before falling still again.

“Don’t they need blood?” Detective called, jarred out of their thoughts. They started taking a mental tally of all visible wounds again. “They lost so much, and we don’t even know–”

“Yes, they do,” EMT1 interrupted, not looking up from their tourniquet. “We don’t have any, they’ll get it at the hospital.”

Detective sputtered. “They’re not gonna make it to the hospital! We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s gonna take–”

“Look,” EMT1 spun on Detective. “We can’t do anything about it, or else we would! Now stay out of the way or I’ll have you thrown out of the damn vehicle.”

 They harshly tied off the tourniquet and moved to the next one. Then their face softened again. Just slightly. “We want them alive just as much as you...”

“I’m a universal donor!” Detective pleaded. “O negative! Take my blood!”

EMT1 paused and stared at Detective before remembering themself, shaking their head out and continuing to fuss over a particularly nasty gash. “Absolutely not, we can’t know that for sure, we can't test it, not to mention the malpractice suit alone would–”

“Shit!” The other EMT called suddenly. “Heart stopped beating, beginning compressions! Two, three, four…” They started pushing into Whumpee's chest before they even fully finished the sentence. The one chewing Detective out dashed to grab the AED machine, slammimg the two pads onto Whumpee’s chest around their partner's working hands, before rushing to the side of Whumpee’s head, tipping their head up and preparing to give life-saving breaths.

“Hey!” EMT1 yelled out to Detectives. “Come here and work the AED, it’ll prompt you on everything you need to do–” EMT2 finished their thirty compressions, and EMT1 stopped their orders to give two full breaths into the mask. Whumpee’s chest rose and fell with each breath before falling still again. EMT2 continued their compressions. EMT1 dashed across the cabin to press on the wounds again. ”--and make sure to yell ‘clear’ when it’s scanning AND when a shock is advised and then press the button–”

“They’re back!” EMT2 yelled again, ear pressed closely to Whumpee’s mouth and two fingers on the carotid artery. “Pulse weak as measured at the beginning, breathing normal. Continue as we were, and pay close attention to vitals!”

EMT1 froze, chest heaving shakily. “Okay, okay, nevermind, uh, go back to the corner…”

“Please, I’m O negative, I can help,” Detective begged. “They’re not gonna make it–”

EMT1 reeled on them, eyes fiery and wet, practically shaking, holding tense hands in front of themself placatingly as if they wanted nothing more than to grab Detective by the throat and hurl them out of the ambulance.

“We cannot give an emergency blood transfusion with your blood!” they yelled, breath ragged, whipping their hand up to silence Detectives protests. “We can’t verify the blood type, and if you’re wrong, they will die, and that’s not even touching on the amount of malpractice I’d be committing. There’s nothing I can do to–”

“Oh, lay off and just do it,” EMT2 called out from the other side of the gurney, pressing a cloth into Whumpee’s stomach wounds. “Guy’s a detective, they know their blood type, and you and I both know that the patient’s heart still somehow beating is one in a billion.” 

They reached across Whumpee to grab their partner's arms and press them down onto the cloth so they could grab something from the cabinets, snapping at Detective to do the same, and Detective fell in right next to EMT1. 

“We’re also what, twenty minutes away from the hospital? The will of God themself couldn’t keep this patient alive for that long without a transfusion.” They nodded to the blood still steadily pooling onto the floor, covering all their shoes in a dark crimson, soaking through the bottoms of their pants with a morbid stickiness.

EMT1 stared at Whumpee, searching over their frail frame as if the answers to their life were going to be etched onto Whumpee’s skin. Only different etchings, cuts, and deep purple and black bruises could be found, standing out brilliantly against Whumpee’s practically gray skin. They turned their eyes desperately to their partner, then Detective, then their partner again. “Do it. I’ll continue care until blood can be administered. If this doesn’t work, it's on your ass.”

“Always is,” EMT2 muttered with a jarring laugh. They beckoned Detective over as their partner worked in a flurry behind them, quickly tying a tight rubber tourniquet around Detective’s upper arm. “Try to keep still, lean on the wall. Get some water from the sink, too. You’re absolutely sure you’re a universal donor?”

EMT2 grabbed them by the elbow and shoved the needle into the vein without waiting for a response. Detective swallowed. “I’ve done this before. Never been more sure in my life.”

EMT2 nodded as they finished, rushing away to help with Whumpee again just as thick blood suctioned up through the thin tube and into the waiting blood bag. Detective was already starting to feel a bit woozy. Great time to remember their fear of needles.

They forced their gaze away from the slowly filling bag, over to Whumpee lying half dead on the gurney with the EMTs rushing around them, patching them up with practiced precision. They watched with baited breath each time their chest rose and fell, hoping the next one wouldn’t be their last. Up, down, up, down. Don’t pass out. Then back to the blood draw kit, sucking out the lifesaving liquid from Detective so it could continue its journey in Whumpee.

God, this had better work.

@whumptember

[wiltedboaart]

Although copperheads are mild compared to other pit vipers in the US, they still are a dangerous bite. Bites can result in extreme pain, necrosis, fatigue, etc. I was lucky the snake was a neonate, and only one fang got in.

In the hospital, my whole arm up to my elbow swole up, all my nerves felt like someone set them on fire. I had lung issues as well. They kept me on IV drip, gave me Norco , and 10 vials of antivenom. The snake was my own copperhead I have since then been made to get rid of sadly.

Currently, the swelling has completely subsided, but my hand still is not fully reactive, nor can it grip right. It may be a few months until the full strength is returned. It is all bruising, which is absolutely normal for snake bites. Here's an underside view of the arm now.

The pain is not always present but still comes in waves. The only reason I do not want to draw much, if at all, currently is that I subconsciously use both hands, and I want to let them heal for at least two weeks before doing any large projects.

I am still waiting on the bill and will be requesting an itemized bill. I did not want to get bit, nor did I mishandle. The snake fell off the snake hook and hit my hand in a freak accident. I appreciate all the well wishes and support I've had.

Once again, I got lucky. I was proactive and arrived at the hospital within 10 minutes. Despite it being the wrong thing to do, I fashioned a tourniquet for my hand. The only reason I did this was because it was a small baby snake. Never do that with an adult pit viper.

If I had not received the antivenom as soon as I did, this would be an entirely different and potentially fatal situation. So, props to the staff for following the correct bite protocols. You would be amazed at the lack of such protocols in modern hospitals.

Many don't follow the up to date protocols, or do not have antivenom on hand. Some even use the wrong information, it sucks, in my city there are only a few hospitals with the proper equipment and access to antivenom on site. I have seen people be denied care due to lack of education in the medical staff. There is a whole Facebook group dedicated to this, National Snake Bite support. This also applies to vets.

For instance:

While I was in the hospital, many of the staff came up and asked me the same question "aren't babies more dangerous than adults?" This is false, but kinda true.

In the way they mean it, it is false, as it is said that the myth goes that a baby snake is more dangerous than their adults as they cannot control their venom. This is because people personify snakes, snakes, unlike mammal, babies come out. Fully capable out of the egg and or womb of the mother Snake. What is true is that they can be more dangerous? Certain species of rattlesnakes have shown that the babies have much more toxic venom than the adults. But in now truth, the adult still has more venom that it can inject and is more dangerous, no matter what, but in the amount of toxicity, the baby is probably more dangerous. They were taught in medical schopl that babies cannot control their venom output, which that is not true at all and it is a misunderstanding of a old wives tale.

[maplemind]

Ohh this has been in my drafts for over a month???? Oops!

I FINALLY FINISHED THE TRIPLE FRONTIER SCREENPLAY

Holy cannoli I’m glad they rewrote it before they made it 😂

But the last bit doesn’t have much to say except:

Benny hooks Catfish up to a drip, and makes him take an entire course of antibiotics in one hit (!!!). It’s quite a detailed description of Benny putting in the cannula etc. made me want to hug Benny soooo much.

They all watch over Catfish in the hotel room while he sleeps off all the painkillers and antibiotics. It’s kinda sweet.

Benny gets shot in the leg, and is a trained tactical driver. He tries to tourniquet his own leg while driving the getaway car OVER DUNES. When they get out of the car and go for the boat, he collapses and Redfly carries him the whole way to the boat, which Benny drives (sails?) away while the others simultaneously shoot the bad guys pursuing them AND try to fix his leg.

Everyone gets shot as they escape, they all survive, but it’s still upsetting.

The last scene is them all hooked up to drips on the boat.

I’m glad that wasn’t the final version, but being a major whumper I really wish there’d been more whump like there was in this screenplay. Like, they could have made more of Will and Frankie’s injuries, perhaps Benny could have been more worried…

Anywho, my main takeaway is I really need Charlie Hunnam and Garrett Hedlund to be in a whumpy film or series together *just saying*!!!!!

[druggeddraccus]

i’m going to list this journal entry by the dates as best i can cause a lot has happened lol

9/11–flight to ireland. actually getting through security and all that wasn’t as stressful as my mind was having me believe. though when i did get to dublin i thought i had just walked past customs i was so confused lol like why isn’t there signage for it but i didn’t i just got worried (the airplane was extremely uncomfortable but i was able to sleep a small bit)

9/12–landed around 11am geoff took a video of me and ash seeing each other for the first time ❤️ we walked around dublin a bit and they took me to a actually authentic mexican restaurant it was really good. geoff pointed out some of the buildings while we were trying to catch buses to take us to wicklow. the bus seats were way more comfortable on the airplane so i slept on that bus for a bit

-that night after we ate dinner cause i think we got to wicklow around 5-6ish we walked around the town and over to the lighthouse. there were so many stars i want to go out again and see if my phone can even pick them up. it was so beautiful. they looked like tree roots you could see lines of light behind them. and if i looked at them long enough it looked like they were moving.

9/13–first full day in wicklow. it’s absolutely beautiful. it started to feel more real that i’m actually here. we took the river walk. and we also took a hike along the coast to bridal’s head. saw some seals! and we had sandwiches out there watching the seals. and there were pups as well. and then we walked back to town and went to the pub and i tried actual guinness (i already don’t like beer and ugggh it was absolutely foul. loved the baby guinness shot though)

and then last night they stayed over at my airbnb till around 130am and we played a bunch of really fun games. UNO, trionimos (triangle dominos) and articulate which is kinda like charades but you can speak—like you get a word and then you have to say or do things to get the person to guess the word on the card. and i’m unnaturally good at guessing what people are thinking on the regular lol so it was really fun and we had some really funny conversations out of it. i wish i had videoed some of it

during all of this my dad got sick back home (his stomach was upset the morning i left). at 815pm as i was boarding my flight—my mom was taking him to the hospital—worried it was a heart attack. she didn’t tell me about it until i landed and was with ashley

luckily it wasn’t he had a small bowel obstruction and they did an ex lap yesterday. and i was so so so worried it was cancer. again luckily he had abdominal fat that had pooped around his intestine like a tourniquet—and they aren’t sure what causes that to happen. but the surgeon was able to take care of it without having to take out any sections of his bowel (they were also thinking they’d need to put a colostomy) but i’m now they are just observing him. he needs to start making bowel sounds and poop/gas. and he’s just so agitated cause he has the NG tube and now he’s feeling better but still can’t do anything. they don’t want him eating till things get moving in his bowel.

[rockshortage]

maybe???

can’t be bothered to clean this up nicely but I might be betting somewhere

really didn’t care for this when it was just black and white, but it started looking a lot better when I added some color

how the fuck is he still able to see anything when there are bright lights RIGHT by his eyes? fuck if i know. I just like how the mojave manhunter mask has a glowy thing going on and it would be neat to add that here. I’ll explain it away via night vision being turned on or something and the light isn’t actually bothersome because of it, I dont know dude

don’t like how the rim on the filters looks here but one of the gas masks I own (the swiss one) has a thin red rim around the filter just like that and it looks really nice so i’ll jot this down to not drawing it good

make the edges of the coat a little more tattered perhaps or add some more pointy places, don’t quite like what it looks like here. but i also don’t wanna make it too complicated :V

here’s a blank png if anyone wants to fuck around and clothe the man

yes the anatomy is wonky and no I don’t know how to fix it nor do I have the patience to try and figure it out

[jadelynlace]

Heavy As Bone⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter One

author’s note: Inspired by this post & kinda by Ink Drinker & mostly by my uniform kink on these men specifically. You are all to blame, and I will not be convinced otherwise, so let’s see, together, how long this lasts before I lose interest in it as a whole and re-board the train to the town of writer’s block. Yes, the reader is going to be a medic in this one; I was convinced by @ivarisms and @prepare4trouble to keep that idea, despite me thinking it would be overkill. (And I still do so if it is, please just tell me.) This AU is totally separate from Ink Drinker but there will be some twists and turns along the way. And no, that’s not evil laughter you hear in the distance, I promise. Also, I don’t want to hear any complaints about Ivar and children, you all know how much the mere concept slaughters me. The divider is by the amazing @firefly-graphics.

**content warning**: We start off with a pretty gruesome scene (welcome, again, to EMS!), and this is the warning for it. Mentions of suicidal thoughts, and stress in this chapter, which I will place a trigger warning for. Mentions of mental health breaks, and time off. This is your reminder that it’s okay to not be okay. My messages are always open. The overall series will have mentions of blood, gore, and trauma, as well as medical inferences with that of emergency medical services. Swearing, adult themes & sexual content will be present. Chapter-specific contents will be added for upcoming additions.

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

synopsis: A best friend’s dying wish, and no means to ever really repay it, Ivar has been raising his Godson as if he is his own flesh and blood. He’s put up walls for his sake, for his Godson’s sake, and he’s not sure he’s ready to let them fall. But an old co-worker, healer, & unlikely lover helps to tear them down; even when you have your own walls just as high. This is the kind of human wreckage that you love. 

word count: 1900+ words

Seconds dragged painfully by, rocking under metal and he trembles towards the center of the chest. The illusion that the harder he works, the more life will flow back to this deceased body. Painstaking care as a devoted friend, watching seconds tick by, bleeding out in glory and then he screams. Veiled in a breath of smoke from the chill in the night, her perfume mixing with the car’s oil. And nothing on the earth mattered as lives spilled over the black asphalt. Analyzing, and as he’s grabbed, they hear the young cry rise slowly through his mouth, and they talk with little sense but Ivar’s world is already silent. 

Present Day:

You had never seen so much blood. Gripping black leather, pulling it as a reign across the skin of the man’s arm, tighter and tighter, higher and higher to get the trickle to slow. A tap from your finger meets his checks, a low moan on his mouth as his only response and you yell for people to move when the sirens roll through your eardrums. 

There’s a voice that catches your attention before everything else, as the back doors fly open, broad shoulders under the blues with eyes as ice that fall on you instantly. Crossing him as a field comes an emotion you can’t dictate, nor taste with your tongue but all you could smell was metal. Copper, oozing around you and soiling your clothes as he comes towards you. 

“Do you know him?” Ivar asks quickly as he maneuvers a new tourniquet to lay above the belt, and you shake your head.

“I saw the crash and pulled him out,” You say back.

“Almost didn’t recognize you without the uniform,” He quips and you both smile before his partner is there next. 

“He’s cyanotic, get the Lucas,” You try.

“You can’t boss us around Y/L/N,” Ivar teases, securing a c-collar around the head you’re holding stationary. Thrusting the man’s jaw under latex fingers, the curve of the oropharyngeal airway slipping over his tongue before Ivar turns it, and speaks again: “How long have you been here?”

“Less than five minutes,” You reply. “Bleeding stopped just as you pulled up,” You add as you watch them work, a well-oiled machine and it makes you long for your title again, for your career to roll back but you’re not sure what side is worse. Holding the man as he dies, or trying to be the one to save him. “I was the first medic on scene.” And your sentence makes Ivar chuckle.

“That may be true, but you’re on leave, remember?” Ivar smirks, adding humor to the air to push out the toxins as the man’s coffin looms closer. “Lewis grab the stretcher,” He adds with a toss of his head. 

There’s grace to how you and Ivar turn this man’s body, less of it soiling you as you look like a wounded warrior, drenched in the day of battle. A roar from Ivar pulls the crowd to part like a sea, as if they’re watching for curiosity, a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve lost the connection that this is a man’s life.

“Let me know how he makes out please, Ivar,” You say softly to him and his eyes catch yours. There’s one nod from him as he pulls himself into the ambulance, tossing a clean rag in your direction. 

Despite his call that evening, you don’t answer. You neglect the contact from everyone as you wash the blood from your skin. Staining the porcelain of your tub as the soap eats you until you’re raw, burning water and bubbles of acid that feel as though they melt your skin when the two touch. No amount of crying helps, despite how you pity yourself for the onset of grief. First comes the blood, then the tears, then the sleep.

*

You watch him fall, tumbling towards the cement floor and at first, your mind can’t make out the scene before you. Ivar’s laugh rings through your ears and he turns, the small body of a child crawling up his back with a giggle twice as loud. Confused as all hell as the two stand up and in the five years you have known this medic, never once has he mentioned he’s a father.

Ivar stands tall, with impressive stature and sturdy; he’s held his ground for even the strongest patients you’ve seen. Excited delirium making them as super humans, and he can push the ambulance with his own arms. You’ve seen it. It hits you then that the knock towards the ground was routine; the tap on his legs from small hands pushing him as a secret promise and your heart can’t detect what to make of it.

“Ivar, I’m sorry but he would not stop asking for you,” A woman’s voice calls.

“It’s alright Ma, shift change is soon,” Ivar answers back.

“Who’s that?” The boy asks, a less than polite finger pointing your way.

“That’s Y/N, she’s my partner today. Can you tell her your name?” Ivar asks, ruffling the mop of dark hair on the boy’s head.

“Igor,” He mumbles shyly, pressing back against Ivar’s side and you only smile.

“Hi Igor,” You reply. “The last ambulance down there isn’t on duty if you want to look inside,” You then add, and a bright smile takes over the boy’s face. Through a tug on Ivar’s uniform-clad arm, they start off, steel toes following the light-up sneakers as they march through the bay. The woman smiles at you and you smile back.

“I’ve worked with him for five years and I didn’t know he had a son,” You start. “I’m Y/N.”

“Aslaug,” She replies with a smile. “He’s Ivar’s Godson. His best friend growing up was Igor’s father. He and his wife were hit by a drunk driver and Ivar was in the back seat. He tried to save them, even though they were killed on impact. That’s why he’s a medic now, I suppose.” Aslaug tells you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” You say to cloud the overwhelming sensation that climbs through you. “I’ve known Ivar long enough to know he doesn’t even bother to try to explain his reasoning anymore.” 

“It’s different with Igor,” Aslaug sighs. “It’s always different when it comes to that boy,”

That little boy alone proves to be the solution to too many of Ivar’s ailments. A cure for his loneliness, his remorse. A very bright power always overtakes Igor when he is excited, the calming rays of sunshine he brings to Ivar’s most challenging days as he still struggles to remember how his best friend sounded, how he laughed. Igor is his second chance; he owes it to them.

You offer the two a smile as you go about your routine of finalizing every part for this hospital on wheels. As Ivar blows up glove after glove, flicks on the red lights to illuminate the garage and then Igor pads his way over to see you. Ivar’s eyes are on the child as you help him into the back of the rig, sit him on the stretcher, only to jump out and start the system. He giggles as the bed slides closer to you, as it halts and as the legs crank to touch the floor and then you repeat the process. Sending him back into the ambulance as glee rings from his mouth and he watches you. He only jumps out to push the buttons once more, but you stop him, climbing yourself onto the stretcher so he can orchestrate it.

His eyes watch the two of you, a small smile stuck to his lips as Igor toys with each red button, making sound effects all of his own. A whine comes through when Aslaug tells the boy it’s time for them to head home, but the sound is quickly swallowed up when Ivar reminds him he’s driving. You’re shocked Igor hasn’t been gifted the whole universe with the way the two of them look at each other.

You watch how Ivar lifts the little one onto his back, sending him to be twice as high and he laughs, the two walking off to his truck. The blues cling to Ivar as Igor pulls them, fiddles with his badge and his pins, tugs on the pulled back hair, and then you watch how Ivar leans into his truck to put him in his car seat. 

Ushering a hug over to his mom, Igor yells something about food—drive-throughs and smoothies and you warm with how precious, how different Ivar becomes within the presence of his son. Turning away, you pretend to finalize the last few remains of the rig check, even though you’ve already done it. Twice.

“You did that already,” Ivar says as he grabs his coat from his locker.

“And I’m doing it again,” You answer.

“Are you all pissy because I drank the coffee?” He jokes and you can’t decide if you want to slap his cheek or kiss it. Instead, you offer him a sideways glance, deadpan on your face and it makes him smirk out of pleasure for your annoyance.

“Get some sleep, Ragnarsson,” You grumble back.

“I will tonight—are you going to sleep upside down again? Or in a coffin?”

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” You finally say and Ivar’s eyes darken. “He’s a good kid, Ivar, you should be proud of yourself,” You then add and the darkness on his face melts suddenly, a light smile claiming the space. Draining the remnants of his mug, you watch the smile not leave his lips as he does, trying to cloud the gesture and it only warms you once more. “But I’ll sleep where ever your Father decides to sleep tonight.” And Ivar chokes on his coffee.

“When you get the rest of your sanity back, let me know,” Ivar nudges, bumping your shoulder with his and you laugh.

“You leech it from me as my partner!” You call and there’s a snicker that rings through your lips and Ivar’s.

Walking through the parking lot to your car was torturous, overspent bones ready to be wrung out and dried, left to be overanalyzed from the days being back in the station. Six months off was welcomed—it was needed, looking down over your balcony and wondering if the fall would hurt, or if it would kill you. Even when your medical mind knew the answer. Admitting that to you chief was the largest mountain to climb in the never-ending journey, and then you had vanished from the station like a ghost. Rumors here and there but they were all dismissed, even the ones Ivar was told about you running off, finding love, or whatever nonsense they came up with, ticked him worse than the most horrid patient. As your partner, he thought you owed him at least an explanation, but his texts went unanswered, and his calls were never returned. 

Not until you were holding the man who was the victim of a car accident, his truck railed by another to the point where undetected metal nearly severed his brachial artery. And then you were back, one shift like you had never left and everything poured through your mind at once. The love for the rush, the sirens, but the fear for what new terror would come tomorrow. You weren’t sure if you could put yourself wholly to help someone who was splitting because now you could not find the other half to your own human wreckage. The job was a lot, physically and mentally and you were lonely; fucking lonely and tired of being your own, and only best friend. Even if the only way you’d open up to someone was when the coroner pulled your ribs to part at your autopsy.

You feel your phone buzz as you park your car, the message rolling through your screen under Ivar’s contact:

“Give me a call when you get a chance, I want to talk to you.” 

Ivar Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @youaremyfamiliar @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee  @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @pixluru @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @ivarisms​ @nordicshield​madien 

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here⎮reminder: requests are closed

[sakuraprompts]

It almost wasn't human, the way he just stood there blankly staring off into space as she ran around doing her medical things he knew nothing about, his maniacal laughter dying down until it finally ceased altogether. He did not resist when she moved his bleeding limb about, nor did he fuss about the tourniquet. The only time he put up a bit of a fight was when she took the hand from him, as he was worried about what she might do with it. Mostly he just watched her, gray-green hues following her every movement, every action, in total amazement.

Sure, he had seen other nurses work before, but those nurses weren't Mikan Tsumiki.

There was just something about the way she tended to a wound that was absolutely mesmerizing. She was so clearly in her element, completely confident in this one single aspect of her life. And no wonder she was. After all, no matter what trauma she faced.. whatever abandonment she endured.. nursing, hospitals, medical equipment, people in need of treatment.. Those things were a constant. Something she could always rely on being there for her. Maybe that was why as he watched her stop his bleeding, not so much tenderly but more so calculated and clinical, he was forced to acknowledge his cheeks warming up once more. Even after all of this, he just couldn't resist basking in the glow of someone so talented paying attention to him. Using that talent on him.

Oh, it made his heart swell..

Other things probably would have swelled too had it not been for all of the blood he'd just lost..

Nothing but shallow, ragged breaths came from him for several minutes. Every time he opened his mouth to respond to her vicious, attention seeking words, he would close it again. Nothing he could say would be harsh enough. Or gentle enough. Perhaps he should just roll with whatever he feels inside, throwing caution to the wind. They would never get anywhere if he wasn't totally honest with her. He was holding back..

Adrenaline dying off, Nagito was finally hit with the reality of what he'd just done. It hadn't hurt as badly as the first time but even so, the aftershock was jarring. He was forced to retreat back to the hospital bed on shaky legs and sit down. Blood from his clothes smeared on the sheets, leaving rust colored streaks.

"Ah!" He gasped in pain, trying to adjust into some sort of sitting position that was comfortable without moving his arm. At this point, he wasn't worried about whether his words upset her or not. He was feeling woozy and unstable, shaky and in so much pain. "Why do you want me to despise you so bad, huh?" Another sharp hiss of pain escaped him, fueling his irritation. "You get off on that, don't you? Some people are into that kinda thing, I guess. I mean.. I get it. I've been there.. but you.. you're a little too hardcore, even for me." He chuckled grimly. Part of him wanted to comfort her, but she just.. didn't seem to understand it. He wished she would tell him more. About her past. About how she came to be this way. Because.. in this particular instance, it wasn't all Junko's fault. No. The nurse was always like this, just not this open about it before.. not this.. shameless.

"Look," he started, flopping backward to lie down on the bed now. It was easier to say this next part without looking at her. The lights in here were interesting. He would talk to them instead. "Get rid of it if you want. Its not like I'd be able to stop you. I'm still doomed to feel this way about you regardless." He didn't know what to say to make her calm down again. Of course he wanted this baby, but him wanting it seemed to make her want it less.

"No matter what you do, it won't change reality. Junko Enoshima is dead. You and me made that baby. Whether it lives or dies, its ours, and she can never take that from us. Even if at one time we wanted it to be for her, its up to us how we raise it. She's too dead to sink her skanky little claws into our child, and if there is an afterlife and somehow she can see what we're doing, she'd be rolling in her damn grave watching us raise the child we made for her to be the ultimate hope.. the ultimate killer of despair."

Nagito felt ashamed of it, but he would be lying to himself if he denied that he had felt a genuine urge to just grab Mikan by the throat to shut her up. It shook him to his core, that he could even possibly be capable of that sort of action now, and to the woman who was currently pregnant with his child on top of it all. Even the briefest mention of that sick, twisted bitch left him dangerously teetering on the line between hope and despair, and Mikan was encouraging it.

Then came the jealousy. Boiling deep inside him like he was a volcano about to erupt.

So it was true. The realization brought him some relief. It really wasn't his fault. Sure, he'd had his problems. His self loathing. His obsessive behavior. His ability to make people uncomfortable in his presence. But he was a good person. At the very least, he was neutral, not evil.

It was Mikan's fault.

It was Junko Enoshima's hypnosis plot that had turned him into a monster. A servant to despair. A pet.

That wasn't what he wanted. It never was. He just thought he did. Even in despair, he still hated Junko. His forced devotion to her left him feeling disgusted and vengeful, even then. He was forced to go along with her every whim.

The bitch who killed sweet Chiaki. The demon who traumatized all of his friends, possibly for life. Who used their talents to do despicable things.

Yes, he was confused. But he had no doubt in his psychosis addled mind that he had absolutely nothing but bitter hatred for Junko and everything she stood for.

Mikan, on the other hand..

"You just don't get it." His voice was cold, callous, coming out in a low shaky growl through lips that were pressed into a tight line to try and keep them from quivering. "I mean, why would you? You were in love with her before you even knew what was coming, weren't you? How could you possibly resist, even after you knew? With how hopeless you are."

He should really stop. There may not be any coming back from this. But he had wanted to say these things for so long, and his brain and mouth were working together against him, too fast for his basic common sense to catch up.

"I loved you." He growled. "I loved you before I even knew she existed. I've been taking care of my own injuries my whole life thanks to how my luck works. Did you really think I needed to be in the nurses office every day? No. I just wanted to see you outside of class. To get some time alone with you. Even after you brought despair upon all of us." He was about to start crying at this point. "It was you. You set her sights on us. You directly contributed to Chiaki Nanami's horrific death. You are despicable. You don't deserve this second chance at life that the Future Foundation worked so hard to give you."

Here came the tears, dribbling down his cheeks. He tried and failed to keep his voice steady.

"I despise you. And I love you. So much." He took a slow, shaky breath. In.. out..

"You wanted a despair baby. You begged me to fuck you. And how? How could I say no? I wanted you for so long, and I.." more shaky breaths. "I finally had my chance, and I was too full of despair to not be selfish. You wanted it so badly. You did it for her. I did it for you."

He swallowed thickly, taking a moment to let another tear fall before speaking again.

"Just like I'm about to do this for you."

Nagito ignored her, crossing the room to where the cabinets were. He opened and closed a few drawers, desperately searching with an urgency he had never felt before. Finally, he found what he needed in a locked cabinet that he had to break open with a few well placed kicks. Why was this even here? It was like the universe was egging him on.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

Nagito was happy to oblige.

Perhaps a meat cleaver wasn't the best or cleanest option, but he didn't care. He didn't even think. He just ripped the glove off of Junko's hand, placed its wrist on the countertop and slammed the blade down on it with as much force as possible.

It didn't do the trick the first time. Or the second. Or the third. But Nagito was the one laughing now. Insane, loud, exuberant laughter that echoed through the halls of the hospital even though the room they were in was closed off. There was no ecstasy quite like this. Blood spattering all across the walls, counter, cupboards, his own face and clothes. Every slam of the cleaver into his wrist was orgasmic. This thing was finally coming off. It was so cathartic he didn't even care that when he turned to face Mikan, severed hand held in the air by his real hand like a trophy, he was profusely bleeding from his wrist. The smile on his face was one to rival even the nurses eeriest grin.

[cloudy-leonhart]

hiii!! i’ve recently found your writing and i am honest to god in love!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!veterans fic where the reader is a titan shifter (the vets don’t know), and during a really rough expedition she has no choice but to transform and help out?

NO BC I LOVE PPL WHO ASK FOR POLY VETS REQUESTS—

I’ll also just add another titan to the nine titans- kinda like annie’s :P

guys don’t be shy to request anything! I’m fine with anything sfw :33!!

———

Save My Home. (Poly!Vets x Reader)

Summary: Reader and the Vets were in a losing situation, if Reader didn’t make a choice, her lovers will perish, she didn’t realize her feelings had made the choice for her

female reader.

Recommended Song: Ballad of Mona Lisa - Panic At The Disco.

Theme: Angst/Fluff?? Canonverse.

TW: Near death experience, injury, swearing, blood(?).

“Captain!” A voice shouted out, you scowled swinging around the tall trees, an expedition had gone so wrong. Bodies pooled the forest floor, you tried your best to get the metallic stench out of your nose, large footsteps followed your every move. “Johann!” You pulled on your trigger, saving your only remaining member of your squad. 

Your fingers clutched tightly against his waist, hoping that you’ll have enough gas to pull yourself and Johann to a safe spot. “Captain, I don’t think we’ll make it.” Johann grimly stated. He was in pain and he could see you were running out of gas to get you back near Commander Erwin’s base. 

“Shut it, Johann! We’ll get there, you hear me!?” You did your best trying to convince Johann and yourself that you will live to be out that forest. Damn it, why did so many titans come out from nowhere? You felt angered and stopped at a high branch.

“Johann, I’ll bring more gas, alright? Try your best to stay alive, that’s an order.” You had placed Johann against the tree, checking your gas canister. He tugged on your uniform, afraid. “I’ll come back, I promise.” You reassured him, tying your jacket around his bleeding leg as a tourniquet. 

You flung around the forest, a determination to find at least some kind of supplies to keep you guys going just until you were out the forest, you had already stolen a gas canister from a dead soldier, your blades were close to blunting. You were on your last string.

It felt like hours you’ve been swinging around, ‘damn it, where are they?’ You swung on one more tree branch, before hearing a yell. 

You used your gear to swing towards the sound, titans were everywhere, reaching and grabbing for you. 

“Reader!” A voice called out, a deserted Hange stood on a tree branch, waving frantically. With them, held an injured Nanaba, and beside them stood Levi, Erwin and Miche, who looked like they were arguing. You landed on a tree branch that was a bit higher than them. 

“What the hell’s going on?!” You exclaimed, making all five of them stop their squirming and their childish screeching. “Reader! Have you seen a cart anywhere?” Erwin yelled up at you, you winced, grappling your hook onto their tree branch and jumping on. 

“There’s no cart anywhere, where I came from. Don’t tell me,” You sighed, “we lost the supply cart?” your lovers looked at each other with a guilty expression, “No worries, we can just-” The tree branch shook. Everyone stopped their movements, checking around, seeing what was happening. 

“Guys, get off the branch! A fifteen meter got on, it’s about to break!” Levi warned and jumped off the branch, hooking himself to the bark of a tree so he could land down on the ground safely. 

“Hange, go! I’ll carry Nanaba.” You ordered, grabbing Nanaba from their arms, Your blonde lover groaned in your arms, clutching her side more tightly.

“It’s okay, Nanaba, I got you.” You comforted her before landing on the ground safely with your other lovers. Miche came towards you, helping you with Nanaba before greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, as a way to say he was glad that you were safe.

“Levi, have you got no blades left?” You asked, staring at his empty blade holster. “Yeah, I spent it on the last few, everybody else is just stuck on gas.” You internally groaned. “Alright how about this-” You could hear a loud roar from the female titan, your eyes widened.

‘Is she calling in more titans?!’ you had thought gripping your gear’s handles tightly, your mind raced on how your lovers were going to survive another wave of titans. 

“Reader? What’s wrong?” Hange asked you, their hand littered on your shoulder, rubbing it in comforting circles as you stay internally panicking at the female titan’s screech. 

“Hange- I need you to take my gas canister and reconnect it to you. It’s got enough for you to grapple on a tree branch and bring the others on there.” Hange stood speechless, what were you thinking of doing?

“Reader, what are you talking about?” Hange asked as you frantically unbuckled your ODM gear, thrusting the canister into their arms. You pulled your hunting knife from out of your boot, holding onto it for dear life. “Reader, you’re not going to survive with just a-” Hange held your hand, stopping you from moving further.

“Hange, just go!” You yelled at them, out of a state of panic. Hange pulled back, a bit shocked on how shaken you are with just hearing a titan’s roar. Levi could overhear the arguing, he looked over to you and Hange who just seemingly nodded and grabbed hold of Levi’s waist. 

An unreadable expression painted Hange’s face, as they flew onto a high enough tree branch. “Hange, what-” Levi started, not even finishing his question as they turned back with Miche and Nanaba. Erwin being the last one on the branch.

“Reader? What about her?” Nanaba’s coarse voice cut through the tension, “She just said to bring you guys up here, not to come back for her.” Hange explained, further tending to Nanaba’s wounds. Levi’s eyes widened, even twitching before grabbing hold of Hange’s cape. 

“You left Reader there to die?” He spat angrily, as Hange grunted pulling against him. “She said to!” Levi shook them by the cape, “And you agreed to it!?” Hange started to fight with Levi, “I didn’t want to, alright?!” Their fight was soon interrupted by a loud thunderclap. 

A yellow bolt of lightning had struck where you once stood, a titan’s shape started to appear from where you were, starting from the nape, and it’s muscles forming lastly from the foot. A loud roar which shook the forest came out from the titan’s mouth.

Your lovers stood on the branch speechless and flabbergasted, their hearts started to beat erratically. Erwin started to speak, “That..That’s not her, right?” Your body was covered with steaming hot muscles, your eyes glanced at the still group on the branch, who stared at you with bewilderment, almost even amazement by Hange.

A screech had erupted from your side, a twenty-meter mindless titan held onto you, gnawing on your skin. Your skin hardened in a matter of seconds, your first turned to crystal, punching through the titan’s neck, cutting the titan’s head clean off.

You were still trying to control your titan and a bad side effect of that, was your lack of capability in controlling your titan, you started to black out, starting to rampage with the titans called in by the female titan, your eyes started to get clouded, more and more titans had toppled over you, starting to consider that you were a threat.

You had fallen to the ground, you turned over to the where your lovers resided, seeing a bunch of soldiers replacing their gas tanks, symbolizing that they were safe and had enough to get out of the situation, you could see a figure approach you as your vision blacked out.

You felt tired, closing your eyes, almost accepting your fate that you might get eaten.

---

Your body twitched, suddenly, you awoke, too fast for your liking, since as soon as your eyes refocused on what you saw, a headache came crashing down on you, a wince had left your lips, as you clutched your hands around your head, feeling a thick layer of gauze. “What..is going on?” You grunted, turning over to the side of the bed, your feet dangled off the medical bed as you pulled away the thin covers.

“Oh jeez, please don’t move, you’re going to further damage or maybe even re-open your wounds,” your nurse called out, urging you to lay back down. “Thank the walls you’re still okay, Captain Reader!” She chirped, helping you drink water, knowing how dry your throat probably was. 

You were about to speak when you saw a group lay on the ground, sleeping. The nurse noticed your gaze on the sleeping group. “They’ve been there since you were admitted a few days ago, except one of course, she lays on the bed beside you, still taking a nap..” She whispered, careful not to wake your lovers who slept like little babies.

You stared in amazement as you even saw Levi leaning against the wall, soft snores leaving his mouth, indicating that he was dead asleep. You looked behind you, Nanaba sleeping in the bed beside yours, so soundlessly. You could feel your lips lift a little, making a little smile appear on your face. 

“I’ll get you some food, alright? I’ll be right back.” The nurse gave you a smile before leaving the room, the door closing alerting Nanaba awake. She woke up, a pained whine leaving her lips as she clutched her side, you laughed silently. 

“Careful, you might re-open your stitches.” You mumbled out, as you watched Nanaba freeze as her face went through five stages of confusion. “wait a min- Holy shit! You’re awake, Reader!” She yelled out, spooking the group. You winced at the loud tone of her voice, as she yelled out a pitchy screech leaving her bed to jump at you.

A yelp left your mouth, as you caught Nanaba’s fast-approaching lunge in your arms, laughing at her. Hange was the second to be up and running. “Reader! You’re awake!” They chirped as they too, joined in on the hug you and Nanaba were sharing. 

“Oi brat, you try and do that shit again, I’ll never forgive you.” Levi’s voice cut through your laughs, you stopped for a second before going back to laughing and whining as Levi ruffled your hair. 

“You never told me you could shift into a titan like the Jaeger kid.” Levi said, as they were all huddled onto your bed. Miche had sat behind you so you could lay on his chest as Nanaba and Hange cuddled each other between your legs, leaving Erwin on a chair at the side of your bed, and Levi sitting at the foot of your bed. 

“Honestly, I didn’t want to.” You confessed, playing with Hange’s hair. “I’m not even supposed to be alive right now,” You mumbled, starting to space out. Levi and Erwin’s eyes widened at your statement, you continued, not giving them a chance to talk. “Well! I’m still here though! So, I’m not done annoying you all just yet!” A laugh left your mouth.

Levi and Erwin looked at each other with a questioning glance. Both of them didn’t bother to ask, setting it aside for later, as they both wanted to spend time with you after you had stayed in bed for more than two days. Both watched you laugh, a question on their minds.

[i-make-questionable-choices]

And Then There Were Two

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Blood, Injury, Character Death (alluded to).

Word Count: 1,655

Summary: Regardless of how hard Dean tries to keep everyone safe, some things are still out of his control.

A/N:I have been sitting on this one since fucking January, it was complete, it was edited and for whatever reason my brain was like: don't post it. So here I am finally overcoming that bullshit to tell you that one: I am alive. And two: this is going to be the start of a crap load of angsty oneshots because this is the first square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card: Amputation. As always, please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!

“Y/N!”

Being weightless was strange, your stomach lurched as your body was whipped backwards. It was almost like being on a rollercoaster when the seatbelt wasn’t super snug and you kinda got jostled around a bit.

Except this time wasn’t just a tiny bit scary. This time was terrifying.

You hit the rocks with a sickening crunch, and there was no doubt in your mind that you had broken most of your ribs. You could almost declare yourself lucky -  the angle at which you had hit the wall had saved your head from being crushed like an empty soda can; and you simply tumbled down to the ground - almost.

The rocks in this area were prone to crumbling, and a net had long been installed on the cliff face to keep any of the loose cracks formed by erosion from breaking off completely and served as just an extra second for anything below.

When you had collided with the wall, however, the weight of your body sliding against the rocks had severed the net.

And the boulders came crashing down.

“No!”

Deans second cry of anguish was accompanied by the agonized screech of the burning wendigo; Sam had managed to get close enough with the blow torch in that brief moment of chaos to set the monster alight.

It was as though hell were raining down on you, the dust from rock hitting rock eluding your eyes as you tried to heave yourself up and out of the way, only for a softball sized chunk to hit you in the back and send you sprawling since more.

And then you couldn’t move.

The pain was unbelievable.

A screech ripped through you, loud enough to be heard as the final boulder hit the ground with a deafening crash. Loud enough to make Deans heart freeze in his chest.

Loud enough to make Sam’s drop into his stomach.

Their safety disregarded, the pair rushed towards where they had last seen you, shoving what rocks they could to the side with hysterical strength.

If Sams heart had dropped to his stomach before, he didn’t know where it was when he saw you.

The back of your shirt was tattered, soiled with blood and grime from the rocks where it had scraped across. One particularly large gash where the small chunk of rock had hit you.

As he took in the limpness of your form, he barely noticed Dean come to his side, trying to take in what neither of their minds wanted to accept that they were seeing.

Your arm, from the middle of your forearm and down, was pinned under one of the largest boulders from the collapse.

Already there was blood trickling towards you, small snakes leaving the shelter of the rock to pool against your face.

Dean threw himself against the rock, unable to grasp that even with the two of them, the rock that pinned you was simply too large to be moved.

Sam was too shaken to stop his brother, tentatively, he brushed your hair out of your eyes, relieved to feel the faint fluttering of your breath against his skin, and to see your eyes closed, you were, at the very least, not in pain.

He looked up at his brother.

Dean had collapsed against the boulder, in the faint moonlight, Sam could see tears budding in the corners of his eyes, mimicking those he felt himself.

“Dean-”

He stopped himself, loathing the way his voice cracked, hating the resignation to the inevitable.

“I know.”

Sam wondered if he hated that even more; Dean would always protest when any plan of theirs put one of you in harms way. He would always insist that there could be more options, even if that might drag things out so long as you and Sam were safe.

They both new there were no alternatives here.

Dean crouched beside you, shrugging off his jacket, then his flannel, the former of which he covered you with and the later of which he began to wrap around your arm. Accepting the stick from his brother he looped into the fabric, finishing off the tourniquet.

Neither brother bothered to check the time to ensure it didn’t stay on to long. There was no point.

Hesitantly, Sam retraced his steps to where he had dropped his knife. It had fallen from his hand as he ran towards you. When he had first gotten it he had appreciated the sedation at the end. Not to much to make it stick itself in a monster and not want to pry out, but enough to bite through the bones.

He hated that now, even though he knew he should be grateful, it was their only way of getting you out from that boulder.

Dean had hardly moved when he returned, still crouched over you, but one hand now cradled your cheek while the other rested underneath your head as if to protect you from the hard ground.

Sam could hardly keep his voice from cracking when he addressed his brother.

“You’re gonna have-”

“Don’t.”

Deans voice was so final, so flat, that Sam sagged from the power of but one word.

Without Sam having to finish, Dean moved his hands to steady you, one resting on the back of your shoulder, the other one your mid-back. The spurt of blood at the first saw of the knife was sickening, and Dean had to turn away lest he throw up. His heart seized in his chest as you tensed under him, and he steeled himself to hold you down to keep your thrashing at bay.

Your eyes shot open first, darting about before they fixed on his face, then on Sam’s blade that was sawing through your upper arm. As your body lurched, Dean prepared himself for a scream, only to have you vomit what little snack you had eaten before the hunt, and they pass out once more.

The sound Sams blade made as it sawed through your bone was spine chilling and part of Dean was relieved when it was over, the other part was even more inclined to vomit. 

 Barely seconds later, your body shifted as the knife severed the last of your skin and what was left of you arm slumped towards the ground.

Sam, who had discarded his own flannel alongside Dean, reached it over and wrapped it around and over the stump; he too could feel a sickness rising his stomach, the reality of what he did hitting him like a freight train.

As Dean scooped you up, gently maneuvering you over his shoulder, he met Sams eyes for the first time since the rock slide. Just like himself, Sam had silent tears racing down his cheeks, despair visible in the depths of his eyes. Dean longed to reach out and hug him, but more pressing matters were at hand.

The pace they made as they rushed towards the Impala was astounding. The hike out had taken them almost and hour and a half. It only took them half the time to make it back to the car. The whole time Sam had has his phone out, searching for a signal to call 911, Dean had tuned him out 4 minutes ago when he had started talking to the dispatcher.

They were to meet the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Fortunately the road out to Deadman’s Cliff was quiet and Dean didn’t have to worry about how fast he went as he pushed the Impala to her limits.

Sam, who was riding in the back keeping, albeit pointless, pressure on your arm, and checking that your were, in fact, still alive, had had to brace himself against the roof and seats a few times as Dean burned around corners much faster then they were meant to be taken. Sam would later wonder how they hadn’t crashed in those moments.

Only when they heard the wailing of the ambulance, nearly an hour from where they had began their drive, did Dean ease up on the gas. Fortunately for them, the ambulance was about ten kilometers down road, so they had just enough time to make a safe stop without the car flipping over.

It seemed unreal as the paramedics leapt from the ambulance, the bright lights of the interior felt fake as he watched them unload the gurney for Sam to set you on, they strapped you in, protecting your neck with a cervical collar before pushing you in. He hardly could process time as he watched Sam climb into the ambulance the doors shutting as Sam turned back to look as him and then the ambulance sped away, leaving a broken man standing in the middle of the highway.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, it could have be seconds, or minutes, maybe even hours; but eventually Dean snapped back into reality. He could no longer hear the wail of the ambulance, or see the bright lights even on the vast expanse of plains. He could feel the tear stains on his cheeks though, could feel the aching in his heart, and the terror in his mind. As he made his way to the Impala, he could feel a strange numbness seep through him.

He and Sam had done all they could to help you, but you had still gone almost and hour without basic wound care, resulting in a high chance of infection. The blood loss and the shock wouldn’t help you fight it off; and you had gone two whole hours without any professional help. Even then, the paramedic’s were still limited in what they could do to help you. And with a sinking feeling, Dean realized that your death could be coming far too soon.

It was too much, with so many feelings left unsaid, and so many more coursing through him, Dean Winchester sat behind the wheel, and wept.

-

Supernatural Tags: (open)

Dean/Jensen Tags: (open)

@akshi8278​

Bad Things Happen Bingo Tags: (open)

@badthingshappenbingo​

[apocalypticgargoyle]

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

I've heard that on TV shows all the time, but hearing it with my own ears is new. I'm scared.

"Hello, hi, uhm." What do I say? How do I do this? "I'm on interstate four, right by the exit to route 408 and I just watched a car go over the side." It feels not real, feels like I'm watching an action movie or one of those dashcam tiktoks that find their way onto my for you page from time to time.

"What interstate four, northbound or south?"

I look to the sign, forgetting that I've driven on this road a million times, still reeling. "North- northbound on four."

"I've dispatched emergency services to you. Can you see the driver?"

I can't even see the car, just the chunks taken out of the concrete barrier where the car hopped it, can see the brake lights still though. "Not where I am but I'm- I pulled off to the shoulder, I can get out and go see if they're okay."

"You don't have to do that, ma'am." A million things are running through my mind, but one sticks out.

"I'm, uh, I'm first aid trained, and I took an EMT class for extra credit in college, I might be able to help?" I turn my keys in the ignition, make sure to keep my hazards on and pocket them, dig through my glove box for the bare bones first aid kit I got when I got the car last year.

"Emergency services are 5 minutes out. I can walk you through helping and give them a better picture if you go over there, but you don't have to. Help is on the way."

"I'm going to see if I can help." Opening the driver's side door seems much too scary, with cars whizzing past going well over the 65 miles per hour speed limit. It's 3 in the morning, and there are no speed traps on this stretch of the interstate. People speed, and they go way over. Instead, I opt to climb over to the passenger seat, careful not to accidentally turn off my hazards, and start over to the crumbled concrete and brake lights. I can hear the driver before I see him, yelling for help. I call out to him.

"Thank god, can you call 911?" He yells, and then I see him. He's laid up between the dash and a cracked but not shattered windshield, curled to see me through the passenger side window, which is gone.

"I'm on the phone with them now, they're, how many minutes is it, 911 lady?"

"Gigi, two minutes out. Can you see the driver? Does he have any visible injuries?"

"Two minutes out, yeah, he's got cuts on his face and his arms, and-" It registers then, that I can see the bones of his arm jutting out of his elbow, and his leg is bent at an impossible angle, and his nose is much too bloody to still be intact. "I think a couple broken bones, too." It's then that I hear the sirens, loud honking, and look to see flashing lights moving down the road. "They're almost here, dude, just keep hanging out."

There's really not all that much distance between where he went over and the ground, so it's easy to clear the wall and land on the ground. Up closer, I can see the puddle of blood he's laying in, bubbling steady out of a large cut in his leg. A flash of my EMT class comes through, it's an artery, somewhere in his leg, and you need to tourniquet it, like ASAP. The truck is still honking, backed up in the saturday night orlando traffic and people pulling to the side to let them through and while I can see and hear it, there's a good half mile wall of bumper to bumper pulling off to give space. No clear path.

"Hey, are you, how do you feel?"

"I feel like shit for crashing my buddy's car, but that's about it right now. Why?" Asking that after you hopped an embankment crashing a car seems kinda weird, but ok?

"I think I need to, like, help you with your leg? Can I?" He nods. I close the distance between me and his car door and manage to open it enough so I can get in the car. It's awkward and there's no real good footing, but I manage to wedge myself in enough to get in a stable spot. "Let's see if I can remember how to do this. I need-"

Ever the helpful phone call, Gigi reminds me. "You need to tie something just above where he's bleeding, tight as you can. A cut seatbelt, a t shirt, something like that." There is nothing like that in my immediate vicinity except for my own shirt, which, I can give up my shirt for this guy, there's another one shoved somewhere in my trunk. It gets stripped off quickly and Gigi helps with directions all the way through. My hands shake vigorously, but I manage to get it to the point where I can't visibly see volumes of blood pour out of him, so I count it as a win.

I look at the truck, still pretty stuck where it is, but the ambulance is getting through, still huge but better able to work through the gaps between the large quantity of cars.

"Am I going to die? Is that why you keep looking to see where they are? Cause I'm going to die?"

"No." I speak firmly despite the panic coursing through my veins, the fear that I might be lying right to his face. "No. The paramedics are almost here and they're gonna help you and get you to the hospital and all that. You're not gonna die." I read somewhere once that in that situation you have to reassure people. They don't fight to live if they think they might die.

The stretch of time that passes before there's an EMT in front of me feels like a lifetime, even if it's only a couple of minutes. And the first thing I notice is that his gaze travels down my body, catching at my chest and oh, yeah, I gave my shirt to the bleeding guy and should probably get out of the paramedic's way. I make to go back and get the extra shirt I know I have in my backseat but I get stopped on my way by another EMT who wants to check and make sure I'm okay.

"I wasn't in the car, I called it in." I wave my phone, which still has 911 on the line, but the paramedic insists, points to a cut on my arm I hadn't realized I'd gotten. I get led to sit on the tailgate of an ambulance, watching firefighters run past from the truck that finally got through carrying loads of stuff, heavy equipment with ease. Nimble fingers clean out the cut before deciding it's not deep enough for stitches, just using steri-strips and wrapping it in gauze with gentle hands and a reserved smile.

"Jade, we need to get going with him!" The first EMT I saw calls while running with a gurney, the guy from the accident strapped against a yellow board with my work shirt still tied around his leg. The paramedic helping me jumps into action, ushers me into the ambulance and helps the guy get the gurney in.

"Sit down, buckle up." He says, looking at me. Jade turns and gives me a bit of a sympathetic look.

"He's always like this. You have to get that checked in the ER still." Oh. Okay. I sit down, strap into the seat, and the ambulance starts moving before the doors are fully closed. They get the car guy all hooked up to all kinds of machines and fuss over him, till the monitor beeping with what I assume is his heart rate steadies, and then the EMT guy visibly relaxes, eyes landing on me again. I cross my arms over my chest, much more self conscious of my state of dress with his gaze on me. He's, unfairly attractive, wavy blonde hair and toned skin, wrapped in an unbelievably tight uniform.

"D'you- here." And then he starts unbuttoning his uniform shirt, and I'm sure my eyes go wide. There's another shirt on under, just as tight with the fire department logo emblazoned on the chest of it. He shrugs off the button down and pulls the t shirt over his head and dear lord, why the hell do men feel so called to wear wife beaters under their clothes, I wanna see how fucking hot he is. The t shirt gets tossed into my lap. He really just- gave me the shirt off his back. My gaze locks on to it, only being torn away from the offending garment when he clears his throat and I snap back up to see him, button up back on his shoulders but undone, face sheepish and what I'd guess to be a blush tinting his skin further in the half dark of the ambulance. "You looked uncomfortable."

It's my turn to go red, flush covering most of my skin and incredibly visible. "Thanks." It takes a moment of maneuvering to get the shirt on with the seatbelt, but it's warm and smells of laundry detergent and a hint of cologne.

"Dream, only fuckin' you." His head whips to the other EMT.

"Only fuckin' me what? Huh?" Jade just laughs, head shaking from side to side.

"Only fuckin' you would give the first girl your age on a call the shirt off your damn back." If he wasn't blushing before, he is now, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Sorry if that's weird."

"No, it's- I appreciate it." I do.

"Good work, with the tourniquet. He'd be dead by now without it." Is that really the best thing to say while the guy can hear us? Maybe not. Speaking of the guy,

"Is his leg supposed to turn blue like that?" The relaxation in his face vanishes that instant as he hauls up, moves to where he can look up close at the leg, tearing up the leg of the guy's pants.

"Jade, I need to set it so he can keep the leg, can you keep him still?" A distinct yes, and then I get to watch as his muscles flex, hands gripping tight to the broken leg of this guy, and then an audible crack resounds through the small space of the ambulance as he pushes his body forward. The car guy's closed eyes shoot open, mouth gaping in a yell of pain underneath of an oxygen mask. I'm sure that probably hurts like a bitch, and suddenly I am very grateful that I've never broken a bone.

There's not much left in the ride. The two EMTs, Jade and Dream, mainly continuing to work on keeping his monitor from making the erratic beeping it has been letting out from time to time. The ER is a blur of people bustling around the guy, but I get led from the ambulance by a doctor to check the cut on my arm before he comes to the same conclusion that no, I do not need stitches, but that I do need to change the dressing once a day and gives me some disinfectant cream to put on it when I do. While he cleans the wound out, he asks in a lilted british accent. "Did you really tourniquet the guy with your shirt?"

"Yeah, I did. The one thing I remembered from my EMT class, really came in handy." I joke, and he laughs.

"Well the guy is lucky you did. You're an EMT?" I shake my head, and wince a bit when he presses a bit too hard.

"Nah, I wait tables at the Waterfront in South Orange. Took an EMT class for a summer course cause I thought it'd be fun." He hums, turning to grab more bandages to rewrap my forearm.

"Well maybe you should look into it. Quick thinking like that would get you far there."

"I might." It's a real possibility. My accounting major proved to get me the single most boring desk job ever, and I've been looking into other career paths recently. He smiles at me when he finishes wrapping, pulls a card out of his pocket and a pen, scribbles something on the back of it.

"Put me as a reference if you decide you want to." That's, incredibly nice.

"I will, thank you, uhm," The name stitched into his coat is hard to make out. "Doctor Davidson?"

"George. You're good to go, just need to fill out a little paperwork and then you can leave." He walks over to grab a clipboard and a form, brings it back to me, and then heads over to another bed with a little girl in it, pulling a curtain closed behind him.

A week later, I find myself outside of the massive firehouse on Central Boulevard. There's a couple guys in shirts that match the one in my hand outside washing a firetruck, and one notices me and comes over. He's cute. Dark hair that's a little longer than a boys regular, scraps of facial hair on his cheeks, and brown eyes that crinkle at the edges when he smiles.

"Y'need help with something?" His voice confirms the fact that he's young, and it takes me a minute to pull my eyes away from the way his sleeves are tight around the muscle of his arms.

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for Dream?" I hold up the shirt and the brownies I made as a last minute addition for the firehouse.

"Ahh, shirt girl. Follow me." He heads into the building through one of the massive garage doors, and it is remarkably clean inside. He heads up some stairs to a balcony that overlooks the firetrucks, and both of the paramedics who had helped me are sitting there, talking over plates of pasta. The guy leading me clears his throat and they both look up.

"Hi." I say awkwardly with a small wave. "I brought your shirt back." Dream flusters, standing up to take the shirt from my hands with a thank you and I give him the brownies, too.

"Dream, cough them up, I want one."

"Sap, shut the hell up, here." He places them gently on the table.

"Okay, what's with your guy's names? No way his name is Sap." All three of them laugh.

"They're nicknames." Dream laughs. "My real name is Clay, and his is Nick. Jade is just Jade though, haven't gotten a nickname for them yet." He looks over his shoulder back at his coworker. "Coward." I feel like there's a story here that I don't know, but I don't press for it.

"I mean, I told you my last station called me Storm, so unless you can top that you can call me Jade and nothing else." I like Jade. Jade's funny.

Clay just rolls his eyes, no real malice behind it. "It's gotta be one we give to you. I'm thinking something about you being our getaway driver."

"Dream if you make a baby driver joke right now I swear you will not live to see tomorrow." He laughs, hard and wheezing, sounding nearly painful.

"Fine, fine." He turns to me. "Thank you for returning this." There's a distinct red flush creeping up his neck, but his smile is genuine, green eyes bright with it. Shit. Why do they have to be unfairly attractive? Who's idea was it? Huh? "I'll walk you out."

He walks me all the way to my car, standing awkwardly next to the door of my car.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work. You got lives to save."

"Wait," He says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'm sorry if this is too forward, but could I get your number?" Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, of course." He hands me his phone and I punch in my contact, handing his phone back to him. "You should text me so I have yours."

The smile on his face is fitting, full of white teeth and bright happiness. "I will."

I don't think I put my phone down for a week. Clay and I text nearly non stop, and I learn a lot about him in the process. He has a cat (a beautiful tabby named patches who purrs very loudly), he's from Orlando (born and raised, baby.), he wanted to be a firefighter because his dad was one, but his mom who's a nurse had him take EMT training instead (I owe her everything for that), and that he's off work this Friday and wants to head out for drinks with a couple of his fire station buddies and me. I also start getting snapchats from that cute coworker of his, Nick.

I can't tell if Nick intends to be flirting with me or is just trying to get to know the girl his "best fucking friend" is talking to, but... I am definitely feeling some type of way about both of them. It's great, the attention is nice, until Nick invites me out to drinks with them on Friday night not three hours after Clay does.

I feel like my best bet is to be honest with them. I'm not one for lying. And then a new groupchat shows up on my phone. It's got Clay and a number I don't have saved in my phone, and there's a message sent, and then another. I'm scared to open it.

I expect it to be both of them mad that I'm talking to the other and instead it's not? There's a message from Clay and it's-

Dreamie

Hey, I just talked to Nick and wanted to make this groupchat with the three of us. I'm not mad you're talking with him, and he's not mad you're talking to me. We both really like you, and are open to letting you make the decision for yourself if you end up with one of us. Just wanted to communicate that with you :)

And another from who I'm assuming is Nick that says:

Unknown Number

its up to you what happens and if your not ok with this then just tell us and we'll back off.

It's not something I've experienced before talking with two guys at once. Talking with two guys at once that know and work with each other with their consent? Never would have imagined it in a million years. But this is probably the best way to go about it.

Three more days pass before I see either of them in person, still having plans to go out for drinks with Clay on Friday. I end up sandwiched in between the two of them in a both of some firefighter bar on the south side of the city. I feel awkward tucked between them until I get a bit of alcohol flowing through my veins, and then conversation comes like second nature. It's not crazy eventful, feels like I'm hanging out with close friends rather than basically strangers, and it's nice.

The night passes quick, but it's still fun, especially when Clay drives me home and drops me at the bottom of my apartment building with a promise of more plans and a quick kiss that leaves him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

In the morning, I wake up to go into work and see a text from Nick, inviting me to dinner with him tonight. I shoot back with a sure, I'd love to. Getting off work at four so that's perfect. and he just sends back a :) and an "I'll pick you up at 7." that makes my shift drag on and on. True to his word, he's outside my apartment building at 7 pm sharp in a button down with his hair brushed neatly behind the wheel of a toyota corolla.

"Where are we even going for dinner?" Nick just shoots me a smile and fucking winks at me.

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

It ends up being some hole in the wall chinese restaurant with what Nick claims is "the best moo goo gai pan in the city". It's fucking amazing, that's for sure, a steaming wok full of it in front of the two of us with plates of fried rice to go with it. It's not an experience I've had at a restaurant before and it's insanely fun. Nick pokes fun at my inability to use chopsticks, tells stories about his friend making fun of him for not being able to use them and learning how at three o'clock in the morning. We're constantly laughing between bites of amazing food, and this easily makes my top three first dates of all time. He refuses to let me pay for my half, but he does let me get the tip after I insist several times that its the least I could do. 

We're halfway through a really good conversation about something that doesn't matter when he pulls up to my apartment, and, not wanting that to end, I invite him upstairs with me. 

"Oh? It's my turn to come up with you?" He teases, and I'm confused for a second before I realize, oh yeah, I'm essentially talking with him and his best friend. 

"What do you mean turn? Clay didn't come up with me, he-" It's probably not the best idea to say he kissed me, I don't want to make Nick jealous. "He dropped me off at the door and he said goodbye." It's not- a lie, per say, but the second it passes my lips I feel guilty, knowing that we need to be honest for this to even have a shot at working. "He kissed me goodbye though." Honesty. We need honesty.

I don't really know what to expect as a reaction from him, but it's not a smile, cocky as ever. 

"Does that mean if I go up with you that I get a kiss too?" Nice, easy, no drama with honesty. 

"Maybe. You'd have to come find out." The grin he's got stays plastered to his face the whole time we're in the elevator, the whole time he's talking mindlessly about the distinct lack of fire safety in the building, the whole time I'm fighting with the works half the time lock on my door. "It's probably too late for coffee, but I have tea in the fridge or coke, or water if you want it." I say, turning to close the door behind us. 

"I'm all good, thank you though." The smile's still there, crinkling his eyes and baring white teeth. "Could go for a kiss, now that I think about it." I shake my head, but still, I laugh. 

"What is it that they call it?"

"Kissing? Lip locking? Smooching?"

"One track mind." That one earns a laugh, a hearty one from deep in his throat.

"You're funny." He says, grabbing my hand and gently tugging me to come sit on the couch with him. "And cute." He sits, pulls me with him so I end up sideways in his lap. The hand he led me over with comes up to brush some of the hair out of my face. "And unbelievably pretty. How could I think about anything else?" 

Smooth. Smooth as fucking butter. Smooth enough for him to earn a quick press of my lips to his own. I can feel him smiling before I pull back, but he chases, returning with a kiss just as chaste before leaning back into the couch, looking like the cat who got the cream.

"I'm winning. I got two kisses." I roll my eyes.

"Isn't it quality over quantity?" He hums, eyes playing from my lips to my own. 

"Why not both?"

"Haha, funny." They're playful, his eyes, as we talk. His bottom lip juts out in a joking pout, and I lean in to kiss at it. He moves at the last second, though, closes the last little bit of space between us when he moves forward to kiss me, soft and slow. His lips are slightly chapped, ever so gentle as the press against mine. My hands press into his thighs to keep me up as his hands come to wrap loosely around my shoulders and he pushes further into the kiss before pulling back. 

"Quality?" 

"Need more data." I say before our lips meet again. He's sweet with it, the way he kisses me. It's nice, easy, feels familiar even though it isn't, not yet. One of his hands moves to rub soft at the nape of my neck. 

I'm just getting comfortable in it when he deepens the kiss, tongue soft against the seam of my lips. It draws a gasp, just what he needs to push further, licking into my mouth before catching my bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it. He's a good fucking kisser, hahh's into my mouth when I bring my hands up to tug at the dark strands of hair on the back of his head. 

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Unfortunately, that end is when my phone starts blaring the insanely annoying ringtone my friend set it as that I don't know how to change. 

"Nick, I gotta-" 

"Yeah." His arms drop, letting me stand so I can grab my phone and answer whoever is calling. 

"Hello?" 

"We have new information regarding student loan repayment in your area." Is loud in my ear, so I just pull back and press the red end call button.

Nick laughs a little. "Not important?"

"Spam call. Can't be assed to get put on the do not call list right now. I was doing research."

"Yeah? You happy with the results you're getting?" 

This motherfucker I swear.

"This motherfucker I swear." Is also the first thing I say in the morning when I wake up for work and there's a fat hickey on the side of my neck, dark purple and blatantly obvious. I send him a snap of it, just saying really? and he sends back a picture of himself and Clay sitting on the tailgate of a ladder truck with a :) and I am instantly worried that one, Clay saw the snap I sent him and two, that I won't be able to cover it for work. Pushing the first thought out of my mind to focus on the second, I try to get it as normal looking as I can before my shift. It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's good enough.

I'm riding the high of not getting comments on it at work when that first thought comes back, catalysted by a snapchat from Clay, a picture barely of his hair with the geotag from the gym down the street from the firehouse with text across it that says "purple looks good on you." I don't know how to respond to that, just send back the floor in front of me. oh come on now  pops up in the chat, and he's still typing. not mad. excited for my turn.  Right.

sorry  I shoot back. this is all pretty new to me

trying to be careful cause i dont wanna mess this up

The little bitmoji he has attached to his account pops up in the corner, lurking for a moment before he starts typing

having these chats is what makes it work. I don't go bragging to Nick about what you and I do, and he doesn't do that to me, but we don't lie about what happens. 

its alot, and none of us have done this before

but keeping communication open and honest is how it works

and that means feelings talks 

He's right. 

youre right

He is. I don't want to make them jealous of each other and that's probably the best way to combat that.

we also have to keep things fair ;) so i get a date too

That has me smiling like an idiot at my phone.

yeah? you got one planned?

not exactly. you doing anything rn though?

I was going to make a sandwich and watch She's the Man for the third time this month.

was gonna watch a movie if you wanna join?

I get a sure, would love to  and a could i trouble you for a pick up from the station?  that has me grabbing my keys and jogging to the elevator faster than I would like to admit.

When I get there, I head inside to say hi to Nick and collect Clay after both of them have assured me that I'm allowed to do so. I don't see Nick when I first walk in, but I do see Clay and jesus, mary, and joseph his hands. He's working over a slab of what seems to be silicon with those massive fingers moving with the utmost precision. When I get a little closer I can see that he's making sutures to close gashes and holes in the mat. I'm impressed with how uniform they are, each a perfect match of the one before it, and with the speed that his hands were moving, I'd say its even more impressive. I'm- not a perfect person, and the thought of what those hands could do to me has me flushing. 

He's pretty wrapped up in what he's doing so I don't want to bother him, but I'm watching so intently that I don't notice Nick come up to me until he hugs me from behind. It makes me jump.

“Shit, Nick, you scared me.”

-gg w the 911 au update

Gg I'm 😩😩😩 you are an amazing writer 🛐 teach me