#he’s just a kid he wouldn’t have understood properly what was happening but he chose to protect his mother because he loved her

[hyunlore]

this is something a lot of people seem to forget or ignore for sure. the fact that it wasn’t expanded on and we only get that scene is so frustrating because why show it if you’re just gonna make everyone still hate him? dacre built billy up from the ground. he was the one who fought for that scene with neil because he wanted to humanise billy. he wanted people to see that what billy was experiencing (his fathers abuse from early childhood) and how he was acting (essentially just pushing everything away, being distanced and irritable towards max/everyone, self medicating w alcohol and smoking) were two sides of the same coin. and i feel like that definitely threw a wrench in the duffers plans for billy. also i kinda go off in the tags with my character analysis and that’s not even half of them like i have so many thoughts on all of it yikes

so you’re going to tell me that a kid that stood up to his abusive father to protect his mom when he was like eleven or twelve and sacrificed himself to protect a kid he didn’t know after one touch of comfort at barely eighteen following a life of physical, psychological abuse and abandonment wasn’t brave or worth saving? just because he was a mess and made horrible mistakes? in his teenage years? okay, d*ffers.

[kikyan]

Yandere Soul Eater Headcanons

These are my interpretations of his persona and none of these are 100% accurate. I don't condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional. 

Yandere Server 

Black Star 

I probably am gonna butcher all three but here we go! I’ve only seen the anime so I’ll be going off of that instead of the manga. When we meet Black Star we see a loud boy, a VERY loud person with a ‘radiant’ personality. He holds himself to a high degree and is a very funny person with an outgoing personality. Tsubaki is someone who can match with his soul wavelength because she is a very understanding and patient girl. Off the bat I think that his yandere type would be possessive, clingy, and manipulative. 

Let me start at the beginning. It was revealed that his parents were assassins, he never met them but somehow their reputation followed him. People judged him a lot despite him not being like his parents, wrongfully judged but he tries hard not to show it. I think that his personality ties in with that, he wants to alert attention to himself to show that he is his own person. 

Clingy. He is a very clingy person because his personality is in a sense, seeking attention. The first person he would seek attention from would be his S/O. He would always direct himself when he completed an accomplishment. Turn to his S/O and ask for their praise, when he gets it he simply turns to say “Well I’m Black Star after all!” He will constantly want his S/O’s attention in anything and everything he does. He’s about to fight someone? You’re coming to watch. He wants to show up whenever he wants. He’ll leave his own home and show up at his S/O’s home through the window because he’s built differently. 

Possessive. His S/O is his. Simple as that. He wants their attention 25/8 on him only, if his S/O is talking to someone else. No they aren’t. They aren’t. They simply can’t. Would call out to his S/O and grab them, hold them, put his arm around them, just assert dominance on them because that’s HIS S/O. It would get to the point where he would be over their house or would suggest them moving in with them. 

Manipulative. He would be manipulative. If his S/O would be upset about anything he will hype them up. He wouldn’t put them down, but he would question them. “ Well I guess you don’t want Black Star as your boyfriend.” Something like that. He wouldn’t be the biggest with manipulation, but he would drop subtle hints or maybe stop going over making their S/O question what is going on. Make it seem as if it’s their fault he is acting this way, their fault that this happened, etc. 

I don’t really see him as a dangerous yandere, but there is a slight chance that he may say some things that don’t sound the nicest at times. He could unintentionally say things he doesn’t mean, his S/O feels upset and then he may not apologize because he doesn’t understand what he said was wrong. It would take Tsubaki and the others to point out what he said was wrong, which would lead to him apologizing and feeling bad. Offering out to do something for his S/O because he is Black Star, he always makes up for mistakes. 

Soul “Eater” Evans

When I first started Soul Eater, I immediately looked at this man and said "He cute asf <3" and I still stand by that. Throughout the series you can see him two sides of him you can see a very laid back individual or a sacrificial individual who needs to do everything himself (let me explain) 

During the entire show he holds the 'cool' title and wants to be a laid back character who's morals aren't as laid back so he will step in when things aren't 'cool'. It doesn't take much to make him fall in love with his S/O just with enough interaction. With this relationship it's the most normal set up, you're a chill person and we've been friends, wanna go out? As a yandere? This is a tough one because it depends on the side that we're looking at. He, as himself, will do everything to make a normal relationship because I naturally see him as a little possessive guy. If we talk about after the black blood and dark thoughts, along with the little devil corrupting him, he would be a bit more cruel and sadistic in his ways to ensure his S/O will stay with him. With that I think of these, Possessive and Overprotective. Under the black blood's influence? Manipulative, Clingy, Sadistic. 

Possessive. I see him being like this naturally, it's just you're his S/O and he wants to make sure people know that. Will walk close to you and if people get too close, he'll get closer till they get the idea. It's just something simple, has an arm around you constantly. Someone is talking to you? He is about to slide in there and wrap around you, inviting himself into the conversation. Sometimes it can get a little too overbearing but crack a joke here and there and it's all good. 

Overprotective. He has Maka as his meister, but the cool thing about Soul is that he can turn his arm into a blade so he doesn't need Maka in some cases. No matter what you are, he'll always feel the need to protect you and take care of you. You could be dealing with things on your own but here comes Soul ready to help you. I see him either letting you deal with it while commenting, “Yeah, my S/O is a badass” or the one who thinks “ A cool boyfriend always helps out.” Towards the end of it, it seems a lot more overbearing. With the whole Kishin incident happening, he would be very overprotective to the point where he would request to be in the same group as you when you go scouting or after the Kishin. After the Kishin incident, he can’t help but fear something similar happening and wanting to be more overprotective. 

After getting the black blood, you can see that he wants to do the most he can to take care of Maka and ensure nothing bad happens to her. Slowly going insane with the suggestions that the demon gives him. I remember that one episode in the anime where Stein placed them in a room with a scent that makes them reveal their true feelings. Soul wants to protect Maka and Maka wants to protect Soul. Soul wants to be the weapon that he is and protect Maka, even prepared to lay down his life for her whereas Maka wants to protect Soul and avoid him getting hurt. He gets the black blood and the demon starts to exploit his wish by trying to let him lower his guard and taking over him. With everything going on, I can see his S/O siding with Maka and wanting to protect Soul. If he is like this with Maka, imagine him with his S/O. Wanting to protect his S/O is his number one priority, but to what extent?

Manipulative. He would be manipulative with his S/O. He would guilt trip them in some cases if they chose to deny hanging out with him or being a little busy. I think he would gaslight them into thinking that they need him to protect them. They need him, because without him they would be in trouble or maybe even lose their life. If I’m being honest, all he wants is a normal relationship with his S/O but he is very protective over them and will do everything he can to take care of them. 

Sadistic, but not by choice. This is a bit of a stretch, but I think he can. Of course under the influence of the Black Blood he would consider hurting his S/O to ensure that they are safe and sound. Breaking a limb or knocking them out to ensure that they can’t move. They need him and if they can’t see that, he needs to show them. 

I know that these are confusing and probably won’t make sense, but I think that after everything that happened in that show, he would be horrified if he couldn’t protect his S/O and live up to the ideology that he is a cool person. He would not only break down and lose it, doing what he can to make his S/O trust, believe, love, and depend on him. He would be clingy and if these ever got to be too much, he would turn to them for help. He tries so hard to be the ‘cool’ guy that sometimes he neglects his own feelings. Overall, he would be a dangerous yandere. If I could give a rating, I would say a 4 or a 5/10. He would slowly lose his sanity for his S/O. 

Death The Kid

Kid. I would say that he is a complex character but at the same time, not really. When it comes to Kid, I think he would be lowkey kinda scared for a romantic relationship because those require patience which a lot of people lose when it comes to him. Instead of laid back he is those people who go all out in relationships because they want everything to be perfect. With that in mind, I think he would be obsessive, lowkey possessive, and manipulative. 

Obsessive. He wants everything to be perfect but it can only be perfect if he knows how to properly plan things without thinking of the what ifs. One way to avoid that is to know everything about your S/O. He would stop to memorize your entire schedule, what you enjoy eating, how much you eat, how much you sleep, your favorite sleeping position, do you sleep with a plushie, etc. Man is OBSESSED with his S/O. Honestly, it’s those thoughts that consume him in the worst ways and worst times. Fighting a Kishin? ‘ What if they don’t like the way that I wrote my name on the group project sheet?’ Like no, you plague his mind 25/8. It would get to the point where he starts to get so obsessed with their life that he might ‘suggest’ or even take it upon himself to ‘help’ you do something in a particular style. Maybe a bit overcontrolling. 

Possessive. For starters, his S/O is someone who took patience with him. Liked his antics and understood his way of being. Never shamed him because in all honesty, I’m going to get real for a second. Kid has OCD, with symmetry and while some people find his antics funny and cute because they are portrayed that way, in a realistic setting this is the harsh reality. People with major OCD can’t do things they want to do without it taking an extreme, I don’t think I have OCD but I’ll give examples from what I’ve learned. People who don’t feel clean enough will often wash their hands, shower, or groom themselves very often. We know that while hygiene is very good, it’s very bad for the skin when it’s excessive. People would wash their hands frequently to the point their skin is raw from scrubbing or dry from the lack of moisture being trapped in the skin. Where something they did doesn’t feel right to the point they do it over and over again until it does. It’s something that can take time away from people, so while it’s portrayed to be funny in Soul Eater, it would be a real thing for Kid. His S/O would not judge him, would understand him, be patient with him, and genuinely care for him. People like that are very hard to find in the most extreme cases, of course I’m not shaming people who don’t want to be by someone's side like that because at the end of the day, you have no obligation to be there, but for Kid? His S/O would be there for him. Again, his S/O means the world to Kid because it’s someone who wants him for himself and for everything. He would not hesitate to dirty someone’s reputation or his own hands to ensure that his S/O stays with him. He isn’t playing games, he would proudly show them off because he loves them very much. 

Manipulative. Kid is very smart and while knowing everything about his S/O, he can direct his or his S/O’s  act to go into his favor. With this in mind, he can do a lot of damage. He would be in pain constantly but he wouldn’t be above making his S/O feel bad or doubt themselves if he has to. He would see that his S/O would feel bad when Kid goes into his mood where he feels like trash. He sees that makes his S/O lean more to him. If he wants their attention or time with them, he would pull that card to get his S/O with him. 

Kid isn’t a dangerous yandere who means physical harm, but mentally yeah. He can be dangerous, he is literally the Grim Reapers son, he has so much power but he can be so vulnerable. Physically? He can deal a lot of damage, but mentally? He can deal more. Think of it like this, it’s the fear that this man can inflict pain. It’s the fact that this man who is strong, is being vulnerable in front of you, to you. It’s the fact that he knows certain things about, it’s that fact that his man makes it seem like you’re responsible and that he needs you. It’s the fact that this man could do something and it would be all your fault, doesn’t matter if you know, it’s the fact that everyone will believe that you’re the cause of whatever Kid did. He is the son of the Grim Reaper, he was raised and taught well but you? No, you weren’t. 

[i-simp-for-gintoki]

Sanji and Ace meeting fem!s/o’s parents for the first time

I accidentally deleted the request like the idiot i am, so basically it was “Ace and Sanji meeting their fem!s/o’s parents for the first time, but the s/o gets upset at an embarrasing/mean thing the parents said towards her boyfriend(s)”

Sorry for the long wait! Time flew by way faster than i thought it would and i really struggled with this lmao. Hope this is to your liking! If not just let me know and i’ll do my best to fix it!

I didn’t rlly know how to end these im sorry, um i made sanji’s more angsty than needed because i just did but oh well

Warnings: like one swear word, your dad is kinda a dick and disapproving of your relationship in sanji’s

Portgas D. Ace

He would not dress up, instead simply putting on an unbuttoned shirt instead of remaining shirtless

He might- might take off the hat but thats only if you REALLY want him too

I think he would be pretty relaxed about meeting your parents

You on the other hand was not

I mean dont get me wrong Ace is a sweetheart and all, but he also can be pretty gross without meaning too

You two were planning on heading to your parent’s house so Ace could finally meet them, so in the meantime you told him to keep a few promises

“No using anyones clothing as napkins, finish chewing before talking, and if they say something that annoys you please don’t fight them.”

He’d give you a thumbs up and a smile as he said he’d keep the promise

So here you guys are, in front of where your parents lived

Knocking on the door, it only took a few seconds for them to show up

As Ace introduced himself he bowed and had a bright smile

Your parents smiled back and let you two in

So far so good

All of you were just relaxing in the living room, your parents sat across from where you and Ace sat

Your parents listened as Ace told a bunch of stories about his life, it mainly consisted of the trouble he’d get in with his brothers or how he met and fell in love with you but he was having fun sharing them

Your parents seemed to be enjoying his company and that made you happy

After talking for a while your mother decided to make a quick meal for everyone in which Ace asked if he could help a bit

Your dad decided to put him in charge of setting the table

He had almost dropped a plate in the process but he got it done and wore a proud smile

It wasn’t long until you guys began to ate and you could tell Ace was definitely holding back from how he usually acted

“Whats the point of forks when i can grab it so much faster using my hands?” he mumbled to no one in particular

What really surprised you was that he made sure to properly chew his food before speaking

You were really happy that he was keeping his word but sadly all good things come to an end

“Wow! Mrs.L/n your food is really--”

THUNK

He passed out.

He passed out face first into his plate and your parents could only stare

You could only sigh as you tilted his face so he doesn’t manage to suffocate

“Oh my, is he okay?” your mom asked in a worried tone and you nodded your head

“Ah yeah he’s fine. Hes a narcoleptic thats all. He’ll wake up any moment”

And not even a few seconds later, Ace straightened up and continued eating like nothing even happened

Your mother laughed

“Oh wow! He reminds me of a baby!”

“Mom!”

He rose a brow at the two of you, unaware of what you were talking about, food still smeared onto his face

You clicked your tongue and grabbed a napkin before wiping his face

“See he is like a little kid” she repeated and you rolled your eyes in response

Ace’s eyes widened a bit as he finally understood what happened

“Did I pass out again?”

“You passed out again.”

He rubbed the back of his head and gave an apology to your mom who in return laughed loudly

“Oh no worries dear, when y/n was younger she would pull countless all nighters and end up doing the same thing”

“Mooom stop it”

“Oh shush this is all light hearted fun”

As your dad started a separate conversation, Ace grabbed your hand under the table and smiled

He was having fun, even if you guys were being teased

Vinsmoke Sanji

Idk how i feel about this one rip

He was a bit nervous yet excited

He couldn't wait to meet the people who raised you, but he was worried if they wouldn’t like him

He chose to wear one of his best suits and cologne despite your protests

“Sanji its just my parents, you don’t need to be any more fancy than usual” “Nonsense, i should take it seriously so your parents can see im serious about you.”

He’d insist on making dinner for them

Once your parents arrive he puts on a charming smile and introduces himself

Skip to dinner, Sanji made sure to sit everyone down and serve them

Some nice small talk was made when suddenly one of your parents asks him if Sanji truly loves you

An instant “of course!” was heard from Sanji before he started listing hundreds of things he loves about you

Honestly he said a bit much since he strayed off from personality and perks to more your physical appearance and more

You had to kick his leg under the table to get him to stop

Your dad put his fork down and looked at you

“I don’t want you dating him”

“Can i ask why?” you ask

“Sounds to me your boyfriend is simply a pervert. He’s probably just after your body”

Now this Sanji got upset at but you acted first

“Seriously?? Did you listen to anything he said just now? Yeah he appreciates my looks but he clearly loves me for who i am, do you only hear things that make you upset or something?”

You were hoping it would stop right there but no, of course your dad had to say some more huh

“Isn’t he just some chef anyways? Its not like they make a bunch of money, he’s probably mooching off of you”

You stood up so fast your chair was knocked down

“How dare you say that about Sanji? Hes not just some chef, he’s one of the best out there. That doesn’t even matter actually, good chef, bad chef, he would NEVER mooch off of someone. Using people, especially women is completely against his character! Sanji has been nothing but nice to you tonight, and here you are completely shitting on him!”

You huff and wave your hand, mumbling how you wanted some fresh air before heading outside

It was only a few seconds before Sanji joined you

“How are you doing love?” He’d ask and you’d whirl around and face him in surprise

“How am I doing? Sanji they were saying bad things about you! Im SO sorry about that, my dads usually not that much of an asshole and-anyways, How are you doing??”

He’d chuckle and assure you he’s fine

“I’m not gonna lie, i was pretty upset when he said i was using you for my own gain. But seeing you stand up for me, getting upset for me really warmed my heart.”

He’d give you a hug while slowly rubbing your back

“But what do i do about him not approving? What if he says to break up??” you ask and sanji tilts your chin up towards him

“Who cares? We are all adults here, its not like his disapproval will suddenly stop the love we have for each other.”

You slowly nod at his words and he smiles before giving you a quick kiss

“Now lets head back in and finish dinner” “Oh but its going to be so awkward now”  you complain but you still walk with him back inside

When you guys return to the table, your mother shoves your dads shoulder which made him stand and walk up to Sanji

Before the blond can open his mouth, your dad is already apologizing

“Look, Im sorry about what I said. It was harsh and based on my daughters reaction, clearly untrue. I just dont like to see my kid grow up, much less dating someone. Just promise me one thing, Sanji. Promise me you wont break her heart” he says putting a hand out

Sanji gave him a nod and a firm handshake.

“I promise. I would never be able to live with myself if I did”

[buddielove]

Hi! I'm a gay fan of 911 and I have a question about the whole Buddie fandom. As much as I like Buck and Eddie, it's frustrating that a HUGE part of the fandom is pushing for these two characters to get together instead of putting energy into supporting Hen & Carla and Michael & Dave. Not to mention Carlos and TK in Lone Star. Can you explain to me the appeal of wanting these two men together? Wouldn't it be more interesting to see two heterosexual males just be able to bond in a non-toxic fashion? That's something we don't get to see often on television.

Hey! This is MAD long lmao I am so sorry! You caught me on a day I felt like talking! Also this took like a year to answer you lolololol. This does have a few ʻhot takesʻ so please be warned! So like in this essay....

So first I am also apart of the LGBTQIA+ community, so I do understand how it could come across as a fetish or being non supportive of the current canonically LGBTQIA+ characters, however I think a lot of the interest around Buddie and the want for them to be confirmed as a couple is how they are being written. Me personally I knew since s2 e1 Buck and Eddie were written not as rivals but as two people who would eventually become friends, but it wasn’t until the Christmas episode with the elf assuming Buck was Chris’s dad and Eddie’s partner that I was like ‘hold on!’ because I was really hoping Abbey would return and I didn’t see Eddie as a possible Buck live interest because of that. The elf’s comment wasn’t played off like most other shows would (think Dean and Sam arriving anywhere in Supernatural) it made me go back and look at the other episodes to see exactly how Buck and Eddie were being framed/written. And as we have moved into further seasons I think there has been a shift in how Buddie is being written, in s3 it was very much like two people progressing into a deeper friendship then the blood clot/lawsuit gets in the way and they both have to deal with emotions surrounding that, then Buck’s response to Eddie being trapped (we see how is he when Boddy is trapped in a fire WITH A GUNMAN, it’s emotional but not to the point is is with Eddie), even the love interests feel very pushed on us and there’s so little banter between Buddie about their gfs and how they feel about these new beginnings. It feels off, not like a friendship in the slightest, more like two people trying to force something and not wanting to deal with any other feelings. Then when Eddie gets shot and reveals Buck is Chris’s legal Guardian in the event Eddie dies, that’s huge, and he did this after only a year of knowing Buck (I have friends with kids. I’ve known one of them for FIVE years, I’m at their house every week, the kid calls me family. I’m person #10 on the list of ‘who gets my kid if I die’, not #1 lol) It just feels like it’s all building up to something, and people are getting tired of waiting for that something! We’re all emotionally tired from the past two years, and probably from many shows queerbaiting us and this is something that could happen, seems to be something the actors are ok with and the fans want. So why do they keep drawing it out. This isn’t about us demanding they ignore the chance to write a healthy platonic male friendship, or forcing two characters to be gay, it’s about holding the writers to what they’ve implied and seeing what could come of it.

Also think of it like this; If Buddie is confirmed it will still be a good example of a healthy friendship which then developed into something else, like Booth/Bones! Showing the natural progression of friendship to relationship that happens a lot in real life. It’s two men who previously (on screen at least) have only been with woman, but now they have an emotionally connection with someone which they then develop and explore. This could be 911’s first nontoxic depiction of two gay characters coming together, because sorry not sorry the canon couples aren’t perfect (which does humanize them) but they also reenforce harmful troupes that plaque the LGBTQIA+ community, which I’m sure you understand: TK was a drug addict, who only got with Carlos at first cause he was hot and sex was TK’s new addition (all gay men are sex addicts who do drugs and sleep with anything that moves). Carlos was ashamed and wanted to keep TK on the downlow (poc gay men want to pretend to be straight but have free access to gay sex). Hen cheated on Karen seemingly the first chance she got (lesbians can’t handle monogamy when pushed, and cheat on their long term partners). All known and documented troupes that happen far too often.

I’m not saying Buddie is some gay jesus ship that’s gonna save the entertainment industry but if done right it could prove to be one of the few healthy depictions of two men getting into a gay relationship we have. If they plan it out correctly, show us the relationship development, like they did with Maddie/Chim for example, Buddie could be used as a positive example of a gay fictional relationship (I really could go into depth about this. I probably should tbh).

As for not supporting Hen and KAREN, or Michael and DAVID, I think fans do support them! The writers don’t. If you read fanfics Henren and Michael/David are featured heavily in many fics, and ik some people might say ‘well they’re only there so Buddie can talk about their gay side!!’ but both these couples have their own fans and fanfic tags! They aren’t just plot devices in Buddie stories. There is a huge side of the fandom that supports Henren and wants to see more of them and their family. Same with Michael and David, during the episode where Michael and Bobby team up to find that plastic surgeon who was working illegally many people where ecstatic that we were getting more Michael/David content and that David was getting more than a couple lines. But sadly it seems like the writers only want to delve into these story lines when they need filler, they even miss opportunities to include these other LGBTQIA+ characters when it makes sense;

(Someone came for me about this but I am going to bring it up again)

When Chris is sad and wants more human connection, instead of bring Harry + Michael/David and Denny+Nia+Henren back into the picture (and yes I understood at the time the pandemic was bad (lmao still is!!), but all the actors at some point would have/had crossed over into each other’s ‘bubbles’, so ALL the actors would have been exposed to each other so getting the children together with adults they had ALREADY been with during shooting wouldn’t have been a super spreader event) but instead they brought in Ana after only two on screen dates and pretended like it was a logical thing for someone who’s up to that point been extremely careful with their child.

They really could have pushed the ‘118 is a family!’ message here and included the canonically gay supporting characters, and the lesbian main character(s) but they did not and instead chose to push the Ana/Eddie coupling even though they hadn’t properly developed it yet. The writers themselves don’t seem to care about developing their canonically gay characters and including them more than they have to but fans are continuously developing Henren and Michael/David with hc and fics.

I’d like to use your logic against you for a second, in s1 we have a very healthy, platonic friendship between Chim/Bobby but that got written out to the point they are more like boss/employee unless the scene calls for them to seem closer, we now have Bobby and Michael friendship but again we hardly see Michael. On Lone Star we have Owen and Judd as a really, really good example of a healthy male friendship but we see Judd more often with Tommy now then we do with Owen, and in s2 it’s overshadowed by Owen trusting Charlie from Twilight and constantly getting fucked over! Why can’t the writter just be happy with these happy, healthy, emotionally well male-male friendship they’ve already included and expand upon them. There’s enough drama because the show literally involves burning buildings and people’s lives being at risk from some natural/man made disaster ever 12 seconds. Does it need to have so much interpersonal conflict and male peacocking??

[eagle-feather-2014]

BLM/BNHA: “True Heroes”

A hero is tasked with protecting the public from threats that they are no match for. They uphold the peace and enforce the laws that govern the land so that order was maintained, and when the air filled with tear gas, all bets were off.

Sometimes, peace is met with violence, and when that violence is sanctioned by the government, well… a hero has to stand for justice, and class 1-A were heroes that wouldn’t stand by just because the very people who paid their salary were the ones playing the role of the villain. The front lines of protests changed after the first instance of lethal force being authorized occurred. Pro-heroes began to publicly attend protests in full gear and stand at the front line of the crowd, right between the civilians and the police. If lethal force would be authorized, well, they’d have to get through them before they could touch the citizens, and what could police without quirk authorization do to the kids that took down national criminal organizations and the League of Villains?

No large protest took place without at least three 1-A students present. They insisted that the protesters stay calm and peaceful, and in return, the heroes would ensure that no one got hurt or arrested. They made grand statements, blocking roads and highways, surrounding buildings like the police stations and city halls of the places the protests took place. The world began to take notice as word spread that Pro-heroes were refusing orders to stand down when police tried to dispatch crowds with force.

Interviews with heroes like Deku, Ground Zero, Shouto, and Red Riot make a clear, cohesive statement that the protesters were fighting a legitimate battle in a way that they had every right to do, and that the heroes were there to keep peaceful protests from becoming a scene of police brutality to quiet a dissenting opinion.

“You can’t uphold a system of systemic racism and abuse and expect people to not want things to change. You also can’t punish them for using their Constitutional rights to peaceful protest because they are drawing attention to a failure in the system.” The world clung to what Deku said on live national news as the rallying cry for more people to get involved. The heroes were protecting them if they were using their rights properly. He was recorded to be at many events, passing out water and bandanas to those needing them, and helping to make signs from old cardboard and permanent markers. Many pictures showed him holding back riot gear police from the crowds, insisting that they stop following orders and instead use their humanity.

“It’s bullshit! The fact that violence has been authorized against these people by the government is all a bullshit political move! Fuck re-election! People are being hurt! If they fire me for refusing orders and throwing tear gas canisters back at them, then they can all just die and go to hell!” Social media blew up, echoing the sentiment Ground Zero offered a news team after an incident where he took a rubber bullet to the brow and had an eye swollen shut for days. His statement, bruised eye and all, became evidence that the police were mistreating the people the heroes were protecting. The Internet flooded with videos taken by protesters of Ground Zero bare handed picking up tear gas canisters and blasting them to pieces with his quirk or otherwise lobbing them back at the police who had fired them in the first place, screaming that they “picked the wrong fight, assholes.”

“No one deserves the mistreatment that the African Americans have faced. There is a reason people are here, and that reason is that they see people being treated differently in the modern world. Everyone here cares that people are being hurt, arrested, and killed because of the color of their skin. They want the injustice to stop. This isn’t about one person like the media tries to say it is, but rather about a people struggling to survive against hate.” The leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement chose Red Riot to be their hero advocate voice, because he understood their beliefs and had been at their sides before any other hero had. Video after video depicted him at the front of crowds, black paint smeared across his face and carrying a sign with the symbol of the movement on it proudly, leading the crowd in chants and being a human shield against rubber bullets. Media tried to play on the irony that the hero Red Riot was leading “peaceful protests” in order to try to turn away their support, but evidence that Shouto and Hagakure managed to compile of the truth of the police staging and anarchists and looters being unrelated to the movement was a good way to gut the argument.

“I have resources, and not a lot of protesters do, so I’ve been working to help fund programs and gather evidence of the underhanded tactics that the police, government, and media are using to damage this movement’s very real credibility. The amount of cherry picking, undercover cops, and government corruption is appalling, and I want it on every news station that is willing to air the truth. People need to know that they are being lied to about these protests,” Shouto explained in an interview, boosting public interest in the findings that he was publishing. Whole websites popped up to add to the evidence, listing people’s experiences, and to provide video and document proof to the general public for free.

Their efforts made it so no one could ignore what was happening. They risked their health and jobs to stand in defense of the protesters as the government tried to silence the whistleblowing of the corruption and systemic racism that was inherent in the procedures and trainings that were widespread. Their chants were echoed around the world by online supporters, and funds began to pour into the charities aiding the protests. Supplies were donated to help the cause, and the very fact that the world was watching and listening put pressure on the government that had been authorizing lethal force. No one could deny the images and videos of the Pro-heroes being injured and wounded in trying to protect innocents practicing their rights. They couldn’t deny the fact that Pro-heroes were being hit with rubber bullets until black and blue in order to keep children from being hit. They used their quirks only when violence broke out, and only until the police conceded to no longer using force.

The police were no match for the few Pro-heroes at each event. They could try to use lethal force to dispatch the crowd, but with Pro-heroes between them and the crowd, authorized to use their quirks to protect civilians, they never got to the crowd before being forced to call off the attack or leave. Protester injuries dropped, and the movement was being forced to be taken seriously, even as the government tried stripping titles from the kids. Even without their Pro-hero status, they didn’t stop supporting the movement or protecting people at the events when police tried to hurt people to scare them off.

They would bring supplies like shin guards and goggles to pass out, and they would rob police of riot shields and redistribute them to those civilians being attacked. The world watched on the edge of their seats as the movement only grew louder and louder as Pro-heroes stood behind them against every injustice and every attempt to make them stop. They weren’t going to stop as long as people were being hurt and injustice remained. It was their duty to protect people from threats, with or without the license, and that was just what they would do. They would go beyond plus ultra to make a difference, and this was where they were making their stand.

So, throw the tear gas, it’ll be thrown back. So, bring riot shields, they’ll be taken for protecting the vulnerable. So, strip their ranks, they’ll still be standing there between both sides. So, fire rubber bullets, they’ll wear black and blue with pride. So, do whatever you want, but know that they won’t be backing down until real change hits, because a real hero protects people now and in the future.

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[haikyuu-sickfics]

Akaashi sickfic where he’s rlly nauseous and there’s a lot of build up. He’s trying to keep it down as long as possibly but eventually loses its

> Maybe Akashi and Bokuto are at an amusement park and Keiji throws up there? You can choose why he does.

Glowing yellow reflected off the various metal surfaces at the amusement park, their bright shine blinding those without adequate eye protection. Keiji and Koutarou both fell into the unfortunate group with melting eyes, the former squinting while the latter looked ahead without twinge.

"What should we ride first?" Koutarou wondered outloud, his eyes shimmering with glee.

Keiji thought to himself for a moment, deciding which ride would be the best on his nervous stomach. A feeling akin to anxiety nestled deep into Keiji's core, it's root remained unknown. There were no triggers present, the crowd was light and and calm, the high tempo music providing the perfect upbeat atmosphere. Additonally, Keiji was not one to be afraid of roller coasters.

So why did his stomach flip every time he thought of riding one?

"Maybe the carousel," Keiji offered quietly, subconciously gravitating closer to Koutarou.

"Sounds good to me!" Koutarou grabbed Keiji's wrist and practically dragged him closer to their day of immature fun.

---

--

-

A cold breeze fluttered the area as the sun set over the horizon, gentle pink and orange hues blanketing the atmosphere of the park. Abandonded litter skittered the asphalt, the walkways significantly less crowded as guardians carried their sleeping kids out of the park. Keiji couldn't help but feel envious for those kids, their arms stretched lazily towards the grounds as they struggled to keep their eyes open.

Truth be told, Keiji felt drained. The awful feeling in his stomach had remained promiment, if not more so after a small greasy lunch. But he was almost done. He had made it through the day and Koutarou seemed to still be in high cheers.

"Akaashi!" Koutarou dragged out the 'a' in Keiji's surname, "can we please ride the ferris wheel?"

Keiji frowned, his right hand instinctively traveling towards his stomach.

"You said the last ride would be the last one. I'm tired and ready to go home."

"I only said that cause I wanted to get you to ride it! Plus," his voice got softer, "I really want to see the sunset from that high with you."

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Keiji turned towards the direction of the attraction. Koutarou's excitement was contagious, an aura of happiness radiated off his body as though he was the sun. Keiji liked being around him for this reason. Fueling the happiness was one of the most rewarding activities in the world-- and Keiji would do anything for the familiar splash of yellow to infect his grey world.

"Let's go," Keiji conceded softly, walking towards the queue enterance.

Koutarou smiled widely to himself before reclaiming his spot at Keiji's side. The latter bit back a frown. Anxiety gnawed away at their midsection, with more strength and warning than normal. Going on this last ride was a bad idea. But who could say no to the charming team captain?

Well, a lot of people- predominantly Keiji- but something about being away from their responsibilities made him want to shrug off his sensible side for a day. Take a walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Or maybe Koutarou's sheer volume of dumbass-ery was finally rubbing off on him.

No matter the cause, here the two sat. Across each other in a plastic car, still warm from the previous passengers, slowly rising into the daunting evening.

The movement, though far slower than the previous attractions, affected Keiji in an overpowering way. Perhaps it wasn't the movement at all. Maybe his luck had simply run out, leaving him white knuckling the edge of his seat and practically glaring ahead.

"Are you mad that I made you come on to this last ride?" Koutarou asked, guilt seeping into his tone.

Keiji shook his head.

"I don't..." Should Keiji be honest with his upperclassmen? Lying wouldn't get him far in this situation... But maybe he could will out for a few more minutes.

His stomach turned

Scratch that. There was no willing this out, "I haven't really been feeling that good today."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me? I mean- you did look kinda constipated all day but you usually have that stoic expression so I didn't think much of it. No offense. Well I just said that you look constipated all the time there's not really a way to not take offense to that but I didn't mean it in a bad way, you pull it off. Well that sounded weird, but I meant that in a totally normal way, in a 'you always look good' way not a 'I like it when you look constipated way'; because that would be weird wouldn't it? Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much I think. It's like. Woah. I've been holding this in my brain without even realizing it and boom it's all coming out at once. Did you know that competive art used to be in the olympics? What did they do? Isn't art relative based off perception? How could they judge what someone elses mind created? That's why I like volleyball. It's set in stone. I'm gonna be in the olympics, you know that? I dunno when but it will happen. And everyone will look on their screens and see how awesome I am and you'll be in the stands because you don't want to continue your carreer for SOME reason. But that's besides the point. Hey, are you listening?"

Keiji had his eyes closed. The nausea was becoming overwhelming. There was too much happening at once.

The smell of food, perfume and trash.

The jerking movement of the cart.

The incessant rambling of the person seated across from him.

Everything surrounding Keiji took on microscopic form and roiled ruthelessly inside his gut. His shoulders occasionally lurched with queasy hiccups- threatening to send everything overboard.

Why now?

Of all places why did Keiji's stomach chose to revolt at the very top of a ferris wheel, the setting sun casting a blindingly painful glare into his eyes.

Did he have a migraine? Maybe. He couldn't tell at this point. Keiji couldn't keep into account everything going wrong in his body at this point. The only thing he was concerned about was finding a way to leave this ride with as little mess as possible.

"Do you have a bag, Bokuto-san."

"A bug?"

"A bag."

"A rag?"

"A. Bag."

"A hag?"

Keiji muttered curses under his breath at the futility of trying to properly communicate with Koutarou.

"This is time sensitive," he took a deep breath, swallowing a bubble of air traveling up his throat, "I don't believe I'm going to make it off this ride without being sick. So I ask you once more. Do you have a B-A-G."

Koutarou's eyes widened as he began patting his shorts in search of a valid recepticle. There was a fish net (who knows why) but that wouldn't work for obvious reasons. The only other thing which came to mind to be of use was the suveneer sinsola hat he had purchased earlier in the day to protect his neck.

Hastily, he pulled the hat off his head- having a bit of struggle with the strings and his ears, but handing it to Keiji top-down in record time.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Keji squinted his eyes at Koutarou.

"It's that or your lap."

"I'm not going to-"

Get sick in a hat- is what he was planning on saying. But the first gag took over his body before he had a chance to vocalize the rest of his sentence.

"Not going to... what?" Koutarou smirked, finding humor in the situation.

Keiji hiccuped over the hat, averting his eyes from Koutarou and clenching his jaw in embarrassment and annoyance.

Just as their cart jerked to a top at the peak of the ride, Keiji's stomach squeezed. It was a sensation stronger than the tugs he had felt throughout the day. This time, a hot sense of urgency burned the back of his mouth and gripped his esophogus.

Coughing, his body instinctually tried to dislodge the psycological ball in his throat. In response, his stomach contents finally pushed it's way up and out of his mouth in one large wave.

A strange sense of relief came with the awful act- as if the tension which had been slowly building up finally broke. He closed his eyes and allowed the conflicting feeling to overcome him.

Spitting residue acidic spit from his mouth, Keiji leaned back against the seat rest. Drying tears cooled around his eyes, which felt achingly tired. His thighs felt warm where he allowed hat to rest, lacking the energy to lift it fully up.

He barely registered the warm body sitting next to him, let alone the hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"You okay now?" Koutarou asked gently, his breathy voice warming Keiji's ear.

"Mn-mn," Keiji slowly shook his head no, his eyes remaining shut and face tilted toward the sky.

"And you call ME reckless and stupid, how the turn tables twisted. Why didn't you say anything? Or like, I dunno, stayed home? I would've understood... Maybe."

"Please just be quiet," Keiji mumbled, "and keep rubbing my shoulder... It feels nice."

"I'll rub it until we get you in bed," Koutarou assured, adding his right hand to Keiji's right shoulder.

"Mm, thanks."

Keiji paused.

"And sorry about the hat."

[sinfulsachi]

After Heist

Prompt: Aftercare Additional Tags: Dom/Sub, Dirty Talk, Breath Play - Choking Words: 2.1k Fandom: Magic Kaito - KaiAo / KidAo

I dedicate this to @sup-poki, because, well, it’s Poki. :3

.

.

“It’s tonight! Kid is going to steal another gem tonight!”

“Kyaah! Will you come and see him?”

“Of course! I never miss any of my husband’s heists. Ever.”

Aoko gorges the first sip of her morning tea in silence. For that alone she contemplates changing their meetup place to a different cafe. She doesn’t want him to get overly arrogant from the unwarranted compliments, nor she to keep rolling her eyes skyward the rest of their stay. It’s too early to get this cranky.

She looks at her watch. Fifteen minutes until he arrives.

Sighing, Aoko decides to waste her time anyway listening to a conversation she’s long used to but prefers not hearing.

The adjacent fangirls converse about the Kid posters they spent the whole night finishing, the cameras they have charged overnight, where the best view is to watch his entrance...all the boring stuff.

Then, the more solemn lady between the two ponders out loud, “I wonder if Kid has a girlfriend.”

Aoko’s ears perk up.

“And if his girlfriend knows he’s a hot magician thief,” the louder blondie supplemented.

She takes a sip of tea. Yes to both, her mind answers.

“Imagine being fucked by Kid before and after his heists. I’d be sooo jealous.”

Aoko chokes on her drink. 

The two girls were quick to throw her table a wary glance. Pretending to be preoccupied with the morning paper, she holds the print nearer her face and scrunches at the headline.

Safe, Aoko sighs, as her curious spectators let her go. Though for what she supposes is an extra precaution, the rowdy blonde moves her chair so that her back faces her. Aoko snorts inwardly. As if that can save her from her bat ears. Especially not with that scandalous tone.

“What if I make a sign in big bold letters, ‘Kid-sama, I want you to steal my virginity’?”

“Add a please! Beg for it and who knows, he might visit your bedroom after the heist.”

Oh god. At that instant, Aoko thinks of leaving. This isn’t the kind of conversation she wants to hear at nine in the morning. Two rabid fangirls daydreaming about being nailed by an infamous thief, who happens to be her father’s enemy, who happens to be Kaito, who happens to be her...? No, thanks. The disrespect. Her growing indignation. The damage to her brain cells. She’s not in the mood for this.

Aoko stays.

“Do you think Kid fucks hard? Or is he the slow and sensual type?” The rosette asks her other friend dreamily as if she’s asking about innocent middle school crushes. 

“Oh, sister. I bet he’s a rough fucker,” the blonde replies. She leans closer to her friend and looks left and right before continuing in a much lower voice, “My two cents is he ties his girl in bed and dominates her like a champ.” 

Something flashes in Aoko’s brain like a movie clip on a big white projector.

「Still clad in all white, he pinned both of her hands with his gloved one, her chest facing the wall as his other hand roamed her backside and gave her ass a delicious spank.

“Looking forward to this, my dirty little Nakamori-san?” he hissed in her ear, then nipped at the underside of her lobe with those lips that were Kid’s if she wanted, but Kaito’s nonetheless.

“Y-Yes,” she rasped, voice shaking from thrill and anticipation. It’s always after heists that he’s most insatiable.」

Pressing her cup to the seam of her lips, Aoko turns her head away from the conversing girls, in case she fails to hide her growing smirk properly.

Well, her one cent isn’t wrong.

“Oh? But I think he’s a pure gentleman in bed,” the rosette opines. “You know, always asks his girl what she wants then he’ll give it to her and more.” She squeals dreamily again.

Aoko bites her inner cheeks.

「They made it to her bed, losing clothes piece by piece as they moved. He climbed above her, and Aoko wrapped her arms around his sweaty shoulders, her fingertips exploring his chiseled back muscles for new scars. His mouth traveled her neck down her sternum, and he gave her cute little mounds gentle flicks with his palm, before taking an erect nipple between his teeth.

“Where do you want me tonight?” he asked, muffled, kissing between her breasts.

“Please... on top and inside me.”

She felt him smirk on her chest. “As you wish, milady.”」

Aoko tips her head down, staring at the ground with a funny smile on her face. Hah. She isn’t wrong either.

“Mm, that may be so, but! Hear this—” the girl scoots closer to the other, ignoring the fact that her voice becomes much more audible from that angle, “I think we can agree on one thing. Kid would be sooo discreet while he screws you. So hot, right?” 

Aoko can practically hear the thirst bleeding out of the blonde’s voice. She hates it. Partly because no other woman should be fantasizing about him like that, and partly because the thirst reminds her of her own.

Discreet, they say?

「It wasn’t the echoes of distant police sirens and helicopter rotors that kept her heart pumping erratically in her chest. It was the fact that the man above her was the fugitive they were searching for, and the man instead of hiding in a safer place, chose to be in her room...

“If Nakamori-keibu knew I was doing this to his daughter, he’d figure out exactly where to search...but he doesn’t, does he?” Aoko shook her head, eyes unstably fluttering as he pounded her aggressively.

...Instead of retiring for the night, chose to land on her balcony, stealthy, as he’d done twice or thrice before...

“H-Harder,” she panted, knees trembling from the force of his body tunneling in and out of her.

"Like this?” He rammed her twice the force up the hilt and her walls clenched around him, wet and tight. 

“Like that, y-yes!”

...Instead of changing first to civilian attire, chose to hold her, kiss her, and fuck her then and there.

“Yeah?” Not stopping his rhythm, his hand pinned one of her wrists on the sheets, while the other crept up her petite neck, gripped her under the jaw and gave a tender squeeze, and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as he elicited from her a hot sound between a whimper and a moan. The same hand angled her tearful face up, meeting his hooded gaze, “Always ready to be choked like the naughty Nakamori-san I know, hm?”

An intense shudder ran through her spine; her mouth was so wet yet so dry, and his hand lacing her neck trapped all the words in her throat. Heady eyes still set on him, she nodded, frantic, ecstatic.

"Say it, say you love this,” he ordered, slightly loosening his grip to allow her to speak but not stopping his merciless pounding below.

“Y-Yes, s...so much...” she managed to croak.

Smirking lecherously, he leaned down to kiss the sweat and tears on her cheeks. “Very good girl.”」

Aoko bites her lip and presses her thighs together. No, she shouldn’t be feeling this pulsing ache between her legs at nine in the morning.

“But you know what the sad part is?” 

“What?”

“That Kid will probably leave you out in the cold after the deed. Poof. Just like that. No trace whatsoever. I mean,” the blonde shrugs, “magician, and thief.” 

“I’m fine even with that... like, that’s where we’re getting the appeal right? The mystery? As long as he doesn’t erase my memory of our love making, I’m good,” the rosette replies, and Aoko from a table away cannot believe her ears.

Clearly these girls are in it just for the thrill of the sex. Sex with the mysterious magician thief. That’s not what she’s here for and that’s what makes her different.

「“Ahh, Ka-Kai...nnh!”

Orgasmic moans filled the room as his hot essence flooded her. He continued to thrust, shooting thick spurts while Aoko writhed on the sheets, cries distorted by a thumb in her mouth. Like the tears trickling down her face, fluids oozed out her entrance down the sheets even when he hadn’t yet pulled out. The wet warmth drowned her entire body in delirious pleasure. Same with him as she felt him throb inside, cock up for more action.

They could still handle more.

Which she understood if he wouldn’t do, because his attire was still on the floor and the rotor sounds remained audible. He ought to hide soon.

But he flipped her so she was straddling him, both still connected at the hip.

“Ride me, Aoko.” It wasn’t an order; his eyes were begging. “I missed you so much.”

Her heart leapt because this was her favorite part, and he was giving it to her again. The second was much more sacred, just she and he, no alter persona. She bucked a pace, slow, going fast, lewd wet sounds interplaying with their soft grunts and moans, his nails digging her hips and hers his clavicle until for the second time she rutted on him and he in her.

She collapsed, chest wheezing, ear pressed over his drumming heart. His fingers ran up and down her spine, calming her. The sirens and rotors faded away and their inhales and exhales became much more prominent.

She felt soft kisses on top of her unruly hair.

“Not the gem you’re looking for?” she murmured on his skin after some time.

“Not the gem I’m looking for.” His hand massaged her scalp. The Kid tone was long gone; she was talking to a Kaito doing a job for his late father. That was how she had always viewed it.

“Did it hurt when I...?” he asked. Aoko smiled.

“Not as much as the wound on your back,” she answered.

“Pfft, ‘s nothing. Just a minor slip when I was hurrying here.” They both giggled.

“Please go home and fix yourself... or else Aoko will call their attention to you.” She looked up and met his tired blue eyes. His aftercares after heists were the best.

“No you wouldn’t,” he grinned, kissed her forehead.

“Yes, Aoko would.” She raised a taunting brow.

“Will you hide me under your bed?”

"No.”

“Aww, c’mon Nakamori-saaaan.”

She gigglesnorted. “Shut it or else Aoko will really expose you."」

She doesn’t hear the outward snort she makes. Nor the recent arrival of the person who has taken the seat across her.

“Warui, Aoko!” Kaito’s palms are pressed together in front of his bowed head. “Jii-chan and I had to handle some last-minute preparations. Sorry!”

“No problem.”

Kaito lags. “...No problem?”

“Aoko isn’t mad.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not mad...?”

“Actually Aoko is...” she trails off, noticing the noise of the two girls die down as their eyes rake Kaito’s side profile. The blonde whispers something to her friend, leering eyes still planted on the man. She doesn’t need to hear to know what they’re talking about.

She cannot fault them for thirsting over an infamous ‘bachelor’ magician thief everybody in Japan knows. But try thirsting over another girl’s man and who knows what she’ll do.

“Actually Aoko’s thinking if she should just meet Kaito in his house...” She tinkers with the empty cup in front of her. “But since he’s already here, she’ll just pull him with her back."

“What do you mean?” 

"After those preparations with Jii-chan, Kaito may want some warm-up...”

"Warm-up?” His brows crinkle, but Aoko’s two fingers tiptoe up his hand that is on the table, and they smoothen eventually upon realization. “Oh.” 

“...Think it’s a bad idea? Before heist?” She bites her lip.

“Gods, no,” smirking, he encloses her two fingers around an iron grip, and, very slowly, makes one pumping movement with his fist, “I may in fact, need some intense warm-up before the main event tonight,” he says in a low voice, and Aoko giggles. 

“Stop that, someone might see us.” 

He grins haughtily. “You suggested it.”

“No it wasn’t Aoko. It’s them.”

“Them?”

Aoko stands upright, pulls her bag and Kaito’s hand. “Nothing of interest,” she laughs, “Let’s go?”

“Wow, aren’t you in a hurry,” Kaito’s sneer is as wide as a Cheshire cat’s, but not as wide as Aoko’s when they pass by the two girls’ table. She feels their eyes follow them as they exit the shop, and Aoko knows it’s bad to gloat but right now she’s as good as winning a lottery. The man they are eyecandying and the phantom thief they are dreaming of screwing? Both men are about to do to her - and only to her - what they’ve been fantasizing.

Later, and tonight. 

[bird-in-a-cage]

Zombie

Do not provoke the patient.

Do not touch the patient.

Do not ask any leading questions that could cause trauma to the patient.

If the patient touches you at any time you will be pulled from the room for decontamination and not permitted to return.

Do not pass anything to the patient. If caught doing so you will be arrested and charged with tampering with government properly.

Steve stared down at his hands on the table, under two layers of latex up to his elbows. He'd been forced to wash them three times until they were pink and raw. Thoroughly decontaminated.

When Max had handed him the very official looking letter, shaking with tears right in the middle of Family Video he knew it was serious.

He didn't think it would be this serious.

The room he'd been taken too was plain. Had no windows and only two doors. A table in the middle with two chairs. All of it bolted to the floor. It was cold stainless steel, not that Steve could really feel it through all the layers. Opposite was a large mirror that took up most of the wall. Clearly two way. The room behind probably full of officials and scientists, all very proper looking with ID badges and miles of abbreviations after all their names.

Apparently Neil had wanted to burn the letter. Ignore it completely like it never existed. Max had snatched it away and ran. Skitched behind a bus nearly the whole way with little care for safety. Robin read the letter first. Let Steve try and calm Max down somehow. The full severity of the situation hit home even harder when Robin's eyes blew wide, like she couldn't believe what she was reading.

Billy Hargrove was alive.

The room smelt overly sterile. Steve tapped his sneakers in plastic bags on the floor, waiting. They bounced hollow with no squeak. The door he hadn't come through was pushed open, and someone wearing a lab coat and a white mask walked inside with the ‘patient’. Set him down in the opposite chair on the other side of the table, and left without a word or even a passing glance.

Steve was shocked into silence.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove.

He remembered Billy being full of life and fire, eyes that could pierce at a thousand yards, a dangerous tanned frame, and a quick tongue within a mouth that was too smart for his own good.

The person in front of him was none of those things.

His hair was completely gone. Shaved short. His eyes looked black and bruised with fatigue, those once deep ocean blues sunk in and hidden, staring down at the empty table top. He was pale. Thin. Gaunt.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove. This wasn't the boy he'd known, had a whole secret life with away from the gossips of high school. Had spent nights with at the quarry getting high, drinking and talking, listening to mixtapes in each others’ cars. Playflighting about Billy’s love of metal and Steve’s love of anything that wasn’t. Making out in backseats in the rain.

This felt like meeting a stranger.

"I had a feelin' she'd ask you to come," Billy spoke. His voice cracked like it hadn't been used for a while. He raised his head and dared to smile, but it didn't look right. He felt forced and it was too big for his new face. Wasn't bright or menacing. Just felt like a mask. Hiding the pain underneath.

"She tried. Wasn't allowed in." Steve just watched as Billy rolled his shoulders in a silent laugh to himself, pulled his arms up with some effort to rest them on the table. They were lined with white scars and tracks, poked with obvious needle marks. His wrists were thin. Steve could see the tendons shift in the back of his hands when he moved his fingers. Rolled his hands into fists and released.

It made Steve’s heart fall into his stomach.

"H-how have you been?" Steve winced at his own question. It was obvious to see how Billy had been but he couldn't think of anything else to ask. Two days ago he, and the rest of Hawkins, believed Billy had died in Starcourt. The town chose to ignore the whole thing, not knowing the true story. It was just a terrible electrical fire that had spread too wild before it could be controlled. The government forbade Steve from talking to anyone about it aside from his specially appointed therapist once a fortnight.

It didn’t do very much. 

It’s hard to talk through being tortured by Russians in a secret underground base in the town that used to be your home but now just feels like a shell and all the memories you made there feel like lies. It’s hard to talk through fighting monsters and having to make split second decisions to either save your own life or a bunch of kids’ you barely know. It’s hard to talk through nightmares that are just endlessly long tunnels and a snarling noise and rows and rows and rows of teeth dripping slime clamping around your face and eating you alive soft parts first.

It’s hard to talk through losing the one person who understood you inside and out, even if you never completely opened up to them, but you just didn’t have too because you were both on the same page of the same chapter of the same book somehow. And that was all that mattered.

Steve had slowly made peace with the fact he was never going to see Billy again. Quietly. Alone in his home that he now felt like a ghost walking through. Acting like nothing had happened. It had taken months but he was slowly getting over his fear of the dark again. Was getting over waking up alone again.

Seeing Billy though, even as small and un-Billy like as he was sat on the other side of the table in a strange building it had taken three hours driving through the middle of nowhere to get too, with Max in the passenger seat bouncing her knees and going between wanting to throw up, cry or just scream out the window, had ripped open every wound Steve had tried to let heal.

It was the most alive he’d felt since July.

“I’ve been better,” Billy answered, with a small coy smile. “Been worse too.”

Steve blinked and he was back at the mall. Back when it was all over. The air thick with gunpowder and smoke. A single wail of despair echoing from a soul too young to deal with something so horrible.

They were all too young to deal with something so horrible.

Billy on the ground. Lifeless. Nearly torn in two. Cold eyes at the sky. Covered in black and blood. Laying in a puddle of indistinguishable fluid.

Yet here he was. Clean. Breathing. Alive. Eyes still bright despite obvious pain. It was a miracle.

"How?" Was all Steve could think to ask next. 

Billy shrugged, bony shoulders within hospital clothes. A pale mint coloured loose fitting top and matching pants. He didn't have shoes.

"I try not to think about it. They say it's not good for me to think about it. Causes too much stress."

They. The government. Doctors. The Russians. The monsters that could still very well live under Hawkins. The monster that was inside Billy the whole time unseen by those who should have cared enough to notice.

Steve would never forgive himself for that.

"But I fell asleep there. And woke up here. Only way I can put it."

It was November now. Thanksgiving was in two weeks. Billy had been three hours away for five months. If the letter had never been sent no one would have ever known. If Neil had burnt it no one would have ever known. His eyes flashed dull for a moment, dragged down to the table keeping them apart, looking at his own reflection or trying not to get pulled into remembering something awful Steve couldn’t tell.

His fingers itched within the layers of latex. To just reach over and touch and confirm this was all real and not some crazy hallucination. To feel Billy, alive Billy, breathing Billy again. Hold Samson and will his power back. Will all of this to be over for good. Kidnap and smuggle him out of here somehow so they could run away from nightmares and monsters and Hawkins forever. Start again somewhere where it never got cold. Where they could both get tans and be happy.

“Max says hi,” Steve said instead, keeping his hands between his knees. “Well, she says more than hi…”

Billy chuckled like a cough, matching Steve’s eyes. “I figured.” He slowly rubbed his chest like every heartbeat was aching.

Do not ask the patient about any procedures.

You have been asked to come here to stimulate cortexes within the patient’s brain. Sight alone should be sufficient but we understand you may wish to exchange a few words.

“Do you know if you’ll ever be out of here?”

Do not ask any leading questions.

Billy’s face fell. He tapped his fingers on the table. Thinking. His voice was small and sad. 

“No.”

Steve released his hands from being clamped down where it was safe and put them on the table, slowly inched over until it just barely touched Billy’s fingertip. Blue eyes sparkled a little. Felt like home seeing them like that again.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, forcing down a self pitying sob, focusing straight ahead. He heard a door behind him swing open. Billy rolled his hand over the latex. Squeezed tight. The door behind Billy swung open too. The doctor started coming towards them.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you too. Tell Max I love her, okay?” Billy smiled so genuinely as he put his hands up in surrender. Looked like he was practiced in that movement now. He was marched away without a glance back. The door was closed sharply and it was like nothing had ever happened. 

Steve had just spoken to a ghost.

Outside in the car Max was still in the passenger seat, waiting for news. Steve’s hands were even pinker after more decontamination cleaning. They tingled but he still felt the weight of Billy’s hand somehow. Felt the slight compression. She stared wide eyed at him getting in and slipping the keys into the ignition so they could return to Hawkins and pretend none of this had ever happened once again. One more lie wouldn’t hurt.

“He’s okay.” 

[youbloodymadgenius]

Super Ivar  (Modern!Dad!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Well... Once again, thank you for helping me, @inforapound, you’re the best beta reader 💖

Summary: Ivar doesn’t want to attend the school year-end show of his daughter. And you know why... 

Warnings: Ivar’s insecurities; grumpy Ivar, but mostly fluff. A lot of fluff (too  much fluff?)

Words: 1916

"I should have stayed home."

You take a quick look at Ivar before focusing on the road again. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not."

Your husband's tone is surprisingly calm, while you're already seething.

"Ivar, we've already talked about this!" Upset, you don't even try to hide it.

"You've already talked about this, Y/N. You're the one who decided I should come. I never had a say." He speaks patronizingly, almost as if he was lecturing you. "But you don't think about the possible consequences. What if that babysitter you hired doesn't know how to take care of Bodil properly? I should have stayed with him."

The light is red, allowing you to look at him. "You can't be serious, can you?!"

He looks away and you feel like you're about to explode. "Ivar, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Turning to you, he glares harshly.

"Agneta is not just a babysitter, Ivar, and you know it. She's a forty-two-year-old pediatric nurse whom we're paying a fortune every time we want to go out. She was already the one who took care of Inger when she was just a baby. There was never any problem. She's probably more qualified than us to take care of our children."

Fussing next to you, Ivar growls. "Bodil is not Inger, Y/N. Inger was always content, always happy. Just think, what will happen if the babysitter wants him to eat something he doesn't like? He's going to go to bed hungry."

Starting the car again, you take several deep breaths. "Ivar, stop so negative. You know very well that I prepared Bodil's meal before we left. And your son is perfectly capable to make himself understood."

"He's a baby!"

"A two-year-old baby, Ivar!!!" Losing patience, you nearly scream.

"Not yet! And anyway, he's too young to stay with a stranger."

"Ivar, that's enough! He'll be two years old in three weeks. Do you want me to take you home? Okay. I'll do it, I promise. We're just going to go to Inger's school, I'll pick her up and then let you explain to your ten-year-old daughter why you don't want to attend her school year-end show, okay?”

You park the car before opening the door. "Look, we're already there. I'll be back with her in two minutes, you talk to her and I'll take you home. Okay?" Your venomous tone makes him shiver.  

Grabbing your hand, Ivar speaks to you softly, lowering his head. "No, Y/N." A sharp intake of breath. "No, I can't do that."

"No, you can't, indeed. That's why you're coming with me. And please stop using Bodil as an excuse. We both know, very well, why you're reluctant to go in there. And it's not because of our son."

Ivar seems offended. "Of course it is!"

"Ivar, stop it! Be honest. You're talking to me, your wife of twelve years, remember? It's the same old story every year."

Sighing, he pouts before shrugging. "Tell me the truth, who wants to see a show called 'Superheroes at School'?"

"I do."

"Yes, you do. But you're an angel, while I'm an idiot with no patience at all. An idiot who can't get thrilled about a handful of kids singing out of tune or sputtering their text."

The faint smile in the corner of his mouth is enough for you to melt.

"And…," you add, urging Ivar to continue.

"And what?" He frowns, pretending not to understand.

"And admit you don't want to thank the teacher for her work over the past year, just like you don't want to shake hands with other parents."

"You know me too well. But damn it, Y/N, it's always the same old thing, over and over again. The farewell drink – two chips and commercial fruit juice – will take place in the schoolyard. There won't be a single chair, my legs will hurt…,” he winces, "everyone will watch me drag myself on my crutches like I'm a freak and on top of that I'll have to endure mindless conversation. Appealing, no?"

Your heart is tightening. He's not entirely wrong.

Speaking gently, you put one hand on his cheek in a tender and soothing gesture. "You'll do it for Inger, okay?"

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he kisses it. "Yes, for our little princess."

***

"Tell me again, why the superheroes?" Leaning towards you, Ivar whispers as the short play featuring Batman, Superman, and Catwoman at the age of ten has just ended.

You sigh. "Ivar, because that's the theme the teacher has been working on all year. You should know, Inger told us enough about that. She even said it was Spiderman who taught her long divisions."

Infuriated, Ivar rolls his eyes. "Nonsense! I taught her that. And she was six!"

You're about to tell him he's exaggerating when Mrs. Berg takes the floor. "The show is now over."

"It is about time," Ivar mumbles and you elbow him, sighing once again.

"We will soon gather in the schoolyard for a time of sharing, but I ask for your attention a little longer.”

Hearing Ivar growling next to you, you glance hardly at him. "Hush!"

"This year, as you may know, the superheroes worked alongside me, with your children. A few weeks ago, your children were asked to choose their favourite superhero and to write a short text explaining why they chose them. I must say that superheroes inspired your children and there were some very nice surprises. Many texts made me laugh, all stirred me up and some moved me to tears. So, I wanted to share this with you, and I suggested to your children that those who wish to read their writings tonight should do so. Five of them wish to do so. Thank you for welcoming Joen, the first of them."

As a chubby little boy walks a few steps forward, a sheet of paper in his shaky hands, Ivar whispers, "We can leave now, don't you think? No way Inger is going to put herself forward, as shy as she is. It's good though, I wouldn't have wanted her to praise Spiderman, the fucking king of math!"

"No, we're not moving." Putting your hand on his arm to prevent him from picking up his crutches, you explain as if he was a child, "That would be extremely rude, Ivar."

Hearing that, Ivar intends to protest but upset people are hushing you both and your husband, clearly annoyed, eventually quiets.

Half listening, you watch first the little Joen, who's talking about his admiration for Captain America, second the pretty Gerta explaining her love for Wolverine. While another child is speaking, you make sure to keep a close look on your childish husband.

Growling, sighing, he finally takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Ivar!" Speaking through clenched teeth and tearing the device out of his hands, your look at him hard.

Rolling his eyes, he folds his arms and you're pretty sure he's sulking. You have to bite your tongue so you don't puff at his childish behavior.

Suddenly you can see the disbelief on his face as he grabs your hand.

"Look Y/N! It's our baby!"

Following his eyes, you realize he's right. Inger is standing on the makeshift stage, panic clear in her huge blue eyes, even if she's trying to contain herself.

Ivar squeezes your hand a little harder and you can't help but hold your breath as your stomach ties up in knots.

"Our little princess, my love…"

Taking a deep breath, Inger begins, "My super—". Blushing, she stops before looking for you. When her wide-open eyes meet yours, you try to give her all your strength and love. She smiles faintly.

"My own superhero doesn't fly, doesn't drive a batmobile and he cannot become invisible. But he's as strong as the Hulk and probably smarter than Iron Man."

As she stops, you can see she's terrified. Taking two steps towards her, Mrs. Berg, a hand on her shoulder, encourages her to pursue.

"My superhero doesn't have a cape. My superhero isn't like the others. He's a superhero with crutches."

Ivar's hand is crushing yours. "What is she doing?"

As stunned as he is, you answer sincerely. "I don't know."

"My superhero, stronger than all the others, is my daddy." Looking at Ivar, her smile is full of love.

"My daddy is different. His legs don't work very well. Sometimes my classmates ask me if I mind. But why would I care? Do I need to have a dad who looks like the others when I can have mine?"

No sound. You could pretty much hear a pin drop on the floor.

Getting bold, Inger speaks louder. "My daddy didn't teach me how to ride a bike and will never play football with my little brother. But he can do a lot of other things. Playing chess, going to the cinema with me, telling me Vikings stories. I think my daddy would have wanted to be a Viking superhero, and I'm sure he would have thrown Thor's lightnings. But above all, my daddy teaches me every single day that you can and have to push your boundaries. When he was born, the doctors told my grandma that my daddy could never stand up. Yet, he gets up every morning and walks every day. So yes, maybe he has a slight limp, maybe he's not moving very fast, maybe you want to look at him sometimes because his walking is weird. But when I look at him, when I look at my daddy, my eyes, my mind, and my heart are filled with admiration. Because seeing him, every day reminds me that nothing is impossible. That's what my daddy taught me, if I fight hard enough, then my dreams will come true. My daddy is different, but different doesn't mean inferior or less worthy.  And he's my daddy. And a superhero. Who wouldn't want a superhero as a father?"

Tears run freely on your cheeks as applause resounds in the room. Ivar is sobbing next to you.

The next minute, Inger is standing in front of you. Sliding one arm around Ivar's neck, you can hear her whispering. "I love you, daddy."

Then she gently kisses your cheek. "I love you too, mom."

***

"Of course, sweetheart, enjoy playing with your friends a little longer." After kissing your daughter, you walk toward Ivar.

A glass of orange juice in his hand, he's talking to other parents. You've never seen him like this before. He stands incredibly straight, smiling at everyone. Your husband is proud. Proud of his daughter. Proud of himself, you can see it in his eyes. And you, you're so proud of the both of them that you feel like you're melting, your heart filled with joy and happiness.

Wrapping an arm, lovingly, around his waist, you give an apologetic look to the people he talks to and draw him a little closer.

Standing on tiptoes, you kiss his cheek. "I thought you hated it."

Frowning, he looks at you. "What are you talking about?"

"You know… The farewell drink in the schoolyard, the mindless chat, the chips and the commercial fruit juice…"

He knows perfectly well that you're teasing him.

His lips graze yours. "Yes, I hated it, you're right. But this was before, Y/N. When I wasn't a superhero yet." Puffing his chest, he winks, flashing you a cocky grin.

Shit. We're not out of the woods yet.

🛡⚔️🛡

@saldelys​ @waiting4inspiration​ @honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @gearhead66​

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 18: The Man with Two Faces

The result of landing on concrete stairs would cause anyone's head to ring. Let alone after being teleported in the worst version of apparition ever, for what, the seventeenth time now? All while hearing about your kid from the future while you were dead. James felt lucky his head was still attached as he sat up, massaging his aching neck muscles and having to give a very bleary look to these, once again, new surroundings. He found them the least fantastic yet.

The stone stairs they'd landed on descended in a perfect square all the way to the bottom, the only lighting source flickering about was the black fire from the only doorway out of this room. It should have been a rather calm place, certainly not as terrifying considering some past rooms, but there was an echo of death in this one that only the unicorn before had housed. The promise they did not want to be in here.

Wobbling to his feet, he did a quick headcount and still found everyone present, and the book laying innocently on the floor. He was exhausted, and despite the multiple opportunities he'd been given to talk to Evans, and more importantly, this whole instance had forced Remus and Sirius to make up, he was more than ready for this to be over.

Despite being insanely curious who had been on the other side of Harry's door, he still paused in confusion of that chapter title. Two faces? Was that supposed to be a metaphor? He hated those.

"Ha!" Lily shouted at the top of her lungs, and despite being completely wrong and feeling every moment of it, he still paused to watch her rub it in. "I told every one of you miserable lots it wasn't my friend, and I was right! It was that sniveling coward in it all for the gold!"

"I never disagreed with you," Regulus informed her superior smirk, "he was a perfectly viable option." He didn't see why she found herself so smart not falling for the red herring of a villain, it had been fairly obvious if it wasn't Snape it was him, considering the idea someone else entirely had been running in and out of this castle to get that Stone was utterly ridiculous.

"You just agreed with a Muggleborn," Sirius stopped whatever he'd been doing along the stairs to instead stare at his brother like he'd declared himself such a thing. "Our mother would faint on the spot...I'm so proud!"

"Shut up Sirius," Regulus snapped at him at once. "If she's right, she's right, I don't see it happening again."

Lily's haughty expression only grew at still somehow being the butt of their jokes and stalked as far away from all of them as she could.

"Damn it Sirius, you're not helping," James sighed as he watched her storm off.

"I was trying to congratulate him being a decent person, sorry that didn't come across," Sirius shrugged without much concern as he went back to performing his spell on the stairs to find out what was really down here. This was supposedly the place where the Stone was being held all this time, Dumbledore's enchantment, how come nothing was happening to them being in here? Yet no matter what spell he cast or enchantment he tried to invoke, he found nothing to disarm, let alone anything out of the ordinary from this place.

James just went back to reading, and immediately noticed something odd. "Hey, he's not stuttering this time?"

"Thank goodness we never had to try reading much of that," Remus muttered as he stayed where he'd landed and kept rubbing at his abused ribs. "It would have been a disaster."

"No Moony, pay attention," Peter rolled his eyes, "why wouldn't he have a stutter anymore?"

It took a moment for his heavy eyes to focus, but after a few sluggish blinks it clicked in for everyone.

"Why would he fake such a thing?" Alice whispered, checking every shadow now to make sure he didn't burst out of here next.

"Perhaps that centaurs warning should have been taken with much more concern than we previously thought," Frank murmured, "and with a much more pressing time concern."

"Don't start that," Lily tried to fret while shifting uneasily on the spot, all wands still drawn and now pointed to every shadow. "Harry himself said You-Know-Who wasn't in here."

"The man would be hard to miss, even with Quirrell's absurd turban," James tried to agree despite his own unease. He felt the most defenseless, holding the book now and unable to properly hold his wand in his injured hand. He trusted his friends to cover him if anything happened, and he'd drop this in an instant to help, but for now he tried to quickly keep going, only to be stunned once again at the next revelation.

"Bless my soul," James breathed, looking like someone had just punched him in the gut. He searched for her just like always, and she finally met his eyes back, until he was the one to look away. Having to swallow past five years of solid hatred, he looked back and said sincerely, "I, guess I really was wrong about him."

Her brow remained creased, she didn't quite smile back, but for once there was something akin to recognizing he was talking to her without that superior tone she so hated, as if of course she should want to speak back.

"Now don't go spare on me Prongs," Black cut in, ruining the moment and returning her scowl to him at once. His voice still sounded a bit shotty and as painful as James' hand felt, but James couldn't imagine anything stopping Sirius talking long, least of all a plant. "He's still been a ruddy arse to Harry all year, plus those other kids! Someone needs to give him a good kick up the-"

"He went out of his way to save my kids life!" Potter defended at once, and it took a moment for Lily to fully process that. James Potter was defending her friend Sev. "I think that may mean he's not the totally irredeemable bug we found him." Well, in his own way.

Black looked to his other two friends for support, but both of them seemed more than happy to not pick sides on this.

James chose to keep going, and found his resolution wavering at once. Snape hated his kid, for what? Because of him? Was he really going to carry on a grudge to his kid? He knew if roles were reversed he certainly wouldn't like Snape's kid, but he'd never go out of his way to humiliate one like this teacher had been doing.

This was an idea he'd nurse at a later time, for now he was much more concerned with Quirrell doing wandless magic, and monologuing!

Protective instincts kicked in, and he was hardly paying attention to a word he was saying, only focused on the idea that Harry could die from this! Quirrell could have easily killed him by now, or take him off to You-Know-Who! He couldn't even bring himself to glance up, far too invested in this, to see that the others were just as concerned.

The mirror of Erised finally made Sirius stop his incessant checking of the room, they all froze for a moment at that! There must be some secret they were missing, no way would Dumbledore put something in place that showed your deepest desire, which in this case, would be where the Stone was!

Remus had to clear his throat hard past his confusion, but quickly stated, "there must be a trick to this we hadn't understood, it's Dumbledore after all! When's he ever done the obvious thing."

"You've far too much faith in that man," Lily told him, but there wasn't much derision in her voice. A lot of the teachers here had grated on her nerves, constantly not expelling the Marauders and all, and most recently their headmaster had even helped keep something under wraps that the Marauders had all been arguing about. That's all the school had worked out anyways, no matter how wild the explanations of this got.

Lupin's smile turned both relieved and genuinely enthusiastic for the explanation they all got. Black threw his head back laughing at once when Quirrell in fact stated the entire problem they hadn't considered.

"What he most desires is the use of the Stone, not the actual location, therefore he'll never find it," Regulus mused to himself out loud. "That's quite brilliant."

"I just wish the Mirror was in here again," Pettigrew sighed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Who knows, but considering you still haven't even told us what you'd see in there, it can't be that important," Black rolled his eyes.

Pettigrew gave him a little glare, then glanced at Potter quickly and waved him on to change the subject.

Quirrell transitioning into stating You-Know-Who had in fact been at the school during the time Harry had overheard him being threatened was possibly the scariest part yet. Their headmaster had still been at the school at that time, it seemed ridiculous You-Know-Who had gotten in at that time, right? Quirrell just kept going though, seemingly talking to himself, but then getting an answer. This was crazy, they were convinced everything was out to kill Harry Potter!

He now had the Stone in his pocket? Regulus at once took back what he said about brilliance, if the thing could just appear like that anyways! This kid had just been sentenced to death, they were all sure of that.

All of them, because no one wanted to hear of You-Know-Who murdering an eleven year old child, while sticking out of the back of someone's head!

None of them had ever actually seen You-Know-Who. He was a ghost story, the figure their parents spoke of that was trying their very lives, but inside the confines of this castle, they were safe from him. Now that illusion was ruined, they got more of an idea than they'd ever wanted of his features, his future.

"How is that thing possible!" Frank hissed backing as far away from that book as he could go. "Vapor! Even ghosts can't take over bodies of another!"

"If you find out, do let us know," Regulus murmured, unable to wrap his mind around the fearsome Dark Lord, the powerful bringer of their world, into this. A shadow of a creature, not even human. This was like magic of nothing he'd ever heard, it wasn't natural. Wasn't that the idea though, the promise he'd been offered, to go forward in life with one who had already conquered death. Was this the end of that quest?

He could still see the look in Bellatrix's eyes, the vivacious gleam as she told of her first duty as a Death Eater, serving the Dark Lord. She kept grabbing her arm in reverence, though never revealed what could be under her sleeve, she kept stroking the spot and promising him this could all be his as well very soon. Why should he have said no? Looking on at Sirius now, a mingled disgust and fury such a blight could exist, he honestly felt himself in that moment it was very clear what his answer should have been.

Yet this was no more easy an answer than not taking his cousins offer to go someplace special with her this summer. Because the Potter's had been murdered, and had apparently been nothing but weak willed saps about it the whole time. He'd rather die than be such a useless wizard, and serving the Dark Lord was the only way to make sure he fulfilled his life's roll.

"That's a lie!" Sirius thundered so loud, for a moment Regulus was sure the roof would cave in. "How dare he ever-" Lupin grasped his shoulder hard, Pettigrew was white knuckled and grasping Potter's elbow, who looked faint at his own words. Then as Harry shouted much the same, Potter still managing to keep going to see his kids reaction was all Regulus could think, the Dark Lord himself admitted he had not been telling the truth in that moment. Potter had fought back and what's more, the Muggleborn stood her ground to protect her young, which someone of lesser magic should never have been able to do. So what was the truth? How had the Dark Lord become this way? What was he agreeing to follow?

His mother would curse him if she heard he'd been asking all these questions, but this is why he'd never spoken such things aloud, he'd seen Sirius do this first. His father would be far more than disappointed hearing Regulus had been consorting with Muggleborns, even agreeing with one of them, and not defending the Dark Lord's will now as he bade Quirrell attack Harry and there was uproar all around. Instead he kept his silence, just like he always did, and chose instead to watch these events play out.

Lily found herself leaning against the wall, pale and shaking from hearing of a death now marked for her more vividly than ever. No distance in the world she put up would make hearing this any better, she'd be sacrificing her life for a child she had refused a connection to up until this point, she suddenly felt as cruel and heartless a monster as Voldemort. Alice was suddenly there, grasping her hands and promising her this wasn't set in stone, but Lily could picture it, now more than ever. Could no longer pretend she wasn't entertaining a future with a child in her arms, and a death for his future as surely as her own.

The struggle of Harry against Quirrell was terrible to listen to, the pain that child must have been feeling as his own scar seared him while he found the one way to harm his opponent echoed around this room as if they could still hear the screams. His, falling, his passing out, and Potter just stopping there, surely Harry had died, and You-Know-Who would rise again as if this were nothing.

"James?" Peter whispered, staying close and trying to offer all the comfort he could, but it felt like he wasn't even there. He just remained frozen, gaping down at the book and still pale as a ghost.

"Prongs," Sirius said forcefully, and that did snap him out of it, like only Sirius could. His head swung towards him, but his eyes remained unfocused.

"Harry he..."

"It's alright Prongs," Peter soothed, patting his shoulder and reaching forward like he was going to take the book, "we still have time to fix this, I'm sure Harry's death-"

"He didn't die," still slightly devoid of just a bit of sanity from hearing it all, James finally looked properly at all his friends. "There's still more left, he's going to be fine!"

Remus felt a bit concerned for his health, but Sirius was quick to play along. "Of course he is, he survived when he was a baby, right! Ten years later, bah, he'll walk away with another cool scar!"

"You're incorrigible," Peter grumbled to all of them, but James looked just slightly heartened and kept going, having to wait hardly at all to find Padfoot to be right.

"Ya hear that Evans? Hey, Lily? Harry's survived, he thinks Dumbledore's turned into a Snitch," Alice kept gently trying to coax a reaction out of the red head who seemingly went comatose.

The girls words did seem to put something back into her, she snorted in surprise and glanced back around her, finding Alice with the brightest most encouraging smile of anyone, and Frank waiting patiently for her to come back to her senses before offering, "there you go, see, Dumbledore did come and fix everything. I'm sure we were just being paranoid before thinking he set all this up." Well, he was clearly trying for comfort.

He was a big guy, broad shouldered with white blond hair and sharp blue eyes, but he always spoke in a soft, kindly voice as if afraid to startle anyone. Lily appreciated that right now. Whatever his goal, it had worked, Lily refocused her energy on a child she couldn't yet lay claim to no matter how attached she felt to him, and realized there was someone right now she could question. As soon as they got out of here, she'd have something to say to Dumbledore.

She held her tongue though, not really looking for another argument which she was sure she'd get from Lupin at least, the way he'd been defending the man of late. Instead she listened intently to the, informative, passage between Harry and Dumbledore in the hospital wing.

At least he started with the important information, that Quirrell was gone, and the Stone was safe. Potter seemed to have a hard time saying the words Harry had nearly died doing so, and finally Lily understood what he had seemingly grasped at once from all this. This was a child not yet born, but could someday exist. Why not, at least for now while traveling through his world, learn to understand him.

"The thing?" Regulus demanded, askance at once. That mirror itself had been a stupid explanation as far as he was concerned, genius indeed! If you left any room for it to be pulled back out by anyone but yourself than you were a fool! "He really did set all this up for that Potter kid to find out about all of this? Go down there and what, prove himself?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lupin scoffed. "He's impressed Harry found out about Flamel, that's all. He would never try to get Harry dragged into this!"

"Sure seems that way," Frank disagreed as he thought back through it all. "That door was ridiculously easy to get through, those challenges certainly were easy for a bunch of first years, clearly the only problem You-Know-Who had was getting past Fluffy, though that admittedly was no one's fault, Hagrid seems a bit of a blabber mouth."

"Easy! Harry almost died there at the end, Dumbledore said it himself!" Potter fired right back.

"You-Know-Who being on the back of Quirrell's head was not part of the challenges, likely an unforeseen event at all, I'm sure the man's never had You-Know-Who slip into this school like that before, let alone at all."

"You're just looking for someone to blame because You-Know-Who nearly came back," Remus snarled. "Dumbledore's not a Seer, this isn't his fault, and Harry's a very nosy kid who got in and got lucky. Don't you put this on anyone else!"

"Okay," Peter cut in before anyone could return with something else. "We could argue about this all day, but for the love of Merlin, James is almost done. Can we please let him finish and go back to arguing about this in the real world."

Remus turned away, clearly thinking his point had been made, while Frank rolled his eyes heavily at such a daft idiot blindly following anyone. He wasn't saying Dumbledore was pure evil, but some accountability for the man who clearly had a plan from the beginning would be nice, having Hagrid pick that thing up in the first place right along with Harry Potter felt like no coincidence.

James was at least grateful to Peter for that, but was stunned stupid only a few moments later when again their headmaster encouraged Harry to call Voldemort by his name.

"But, why?" He wondered aloud, clearly only to his friends attention now, the other four were just shifting impatiently and waiting for this to be done rather than dwelling on something so ludicrous to them. He'd done it on a rare occasion when he was trying to prove something, but never so casually.

"Don't know, I suppose I've always done it out of habit," Sirius muttered. Now he thought about it though, Dumbledore was right. If they kept refusing to acknowledge the real name, they may even grow fearful enough to start flinching like twits along with everyone else, though thankfully the four of them had never delved that far into it.

James eyed that for a moment, before going on cheerfully through the rest of the conversation calling him Voldemort as well. Evans, Frank and Alice, looked at him like he'd gone nuts, but only shifted uneasily at something so unfamiliar happening right in front of them. Regulus was the only one who flinched, outright ducked like he expected someone to pummel him just for being in hearing range of this, but was ignored.

The idea of him coming back again, just in another body, was truly terrifying, and James certainly hoped that didn't happen until someone found a way to keep, Voldemort, as far away from Harry as it was possible to be. Dumbledore's statement was certainly helpful to him, he'd set out himself to make sure he never full returned!

Then Harry asked a really good question, why him, why the Potters? Sadly he cursed Dumbledore's name colorfully for the lack of response, earning a glare from Moony but not much else. He certainly hoped Harry lived to be old enough to hear the answer.

At least it was explained what exactly had gone on with Harry and Quirrell's inability to lay hands on him. His voice went soft, he dared not look to Evans, but no matter his mind telling him otherwise his eyes betrayed him and he glanced over to her.

Her face was impassive, and though she'd been trying not to show it, James had seen hints the past few times she was growing to care for at least the idea of Harry. He couldn't tell now what this had done for it, but he certainly hoped she didn't find it as repulsive anymore, that was his kid, their kid! And she was his saving grace, the reason they were getting this experience! He'd be sobbing and bouncing off the walls in her place, sadly all he got for his efforts was more questions in wondering why he couldn't have done that for her and Harry.

Dumbledore stating he'd left his Invisibility Cloak in anyone's possession was laughable to him right now, but no matter the circumstances of that he was just happy it had somehow landed where it was supposed to with Harry. Considering he was feigning any knowledge of it right now though, he couldn't do more than exchange meaningful looks with his friends, but couldn't quite get all the way past it.

"Snuck down to the school kitchens eh? Thought you didn't have this thing now," Alice frowned at him.

"I don't," James shrugged as carelessly as he was capable of. He was fairly good at it when not confronted by Evans. "Must get it in the next year or so, looking forward to that at least!"

He did not appreciate Harry asking about Snape's hatred, terrified it would erupt something between Remus and Sirius again, but Dumbledore's answer was very thankfully diplomatic, and the two simply shifted awkwardly but seemed able to make no more fuss about it. James honestly just hoped it would never come up again, he didn't like the calculating look he caught on the other group.

"You, saving Snivellus' life!" Peter thankfully broke the tension by bursting out laughing, and thankfully only the three of them knew it as his too high pitched, nervous giggle while trying to shield something. "You'd sooner snog the man!"

"As if I needed more nightmares Wormtail," James made a disgusted face at him while giving him a grateful smile and loudly moving on.

Ron and Hermione's entrance was a bit adorable, they were all happy those kids made it out as surely as Harry. Harry and Hermione's conversation about Dumbledore's desire to have all this happen certainly wasn't helping the tension though, so James quickly moved past that, and the news of a Quidditch defeat as that would make no one feel better, and found himself genuinely touched at what Hagrid did for Harry.

"That is the best gift ever!" Sirius whispered, his eyes gleaming with want right now. He'd love to get his hands on that photo album, see pictures of them in their future, proof of Evans and James' wedding for one.

His best mates small smile completely agreed, the four of them already knew they couldn't hold a grudge for what Hagrid had unintentionally done to Harry, this gift more than made up for everything, even the dragon, Sirius grudgingly decided.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Alice's brows shot up in absolute outrage when the End of Term feast held Dumbledore giving points to those kids. She'd clung to disbelief through all three, surely Dumbledore really wasn't doing this.

"I think it's sweet," James chuckled. "Harry deserves a reward for saving the world from, Voldemort, and he would have gotten those points if he'd played Ravenclaw anyways."

"He lost those points because he was sneaking out of bed at night, nothing to do with the Stone!" Frank protested.

"At least they only tied Slytherin for the cup, and didn't outright, oh, never mind," Regulus rolled his eyes heavily as Dumbledore and Potter finished.

Alice and Frank wanted to still be mad, they honestly understood why Slytherin would feel snubbed for this happening, but at the same time they couldn't hide a beaming pride Neville got those last points, that their kid stood up for his house like that. It really made them understand why the Marauders were hooting and high-fiving Harry's accomplishment, even if they held themselves back from doing the same.

Potter's mood sobered at once, all of them feeling downcast this was ending with something as depressing as Harry having to go back to those Muggles who didn't deserve to have such a kid in their presence.

James found himself finishing the last pages with a spring in his voice though, an honest feeling of hope. He'd take the information given in this, and the first thing he'd do when he got back was see to it this didn't have to be his future.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twelve - Father Material

The last injection was one of the worst Victor had had so far. He felt feverish, his stomach churning, angry, revolting against itself. But he knew what would happen should he vomit, so he did his best to keep whatever gunk they gave him that morning inside him.

This time they put them all together in a room, a lady coming in now and then to check their temperatures. He noticed a small boy, probably four or five years old, weeping in the corner of the room. He hadn’t seen any of these kids before, this was obviously their first week there, but they already knew better than to comfort the small boy.

The boy tossed and turned, hands rubbing his tummy, occasionally moaning in pain. Victor immediately understood what was wrong. The injection was making him want to go too.

“Don’t do it here. If you do, they will hurt you.” He whispered to the kid, but his voice was so strained and low from his own suffering that he wasn’t sure if the kid was able to hear it.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, the kid turned to the wall sobbing loudly, his grey sweatpants wet with a brown stain, the room suddenly filled with a putrid smell. Something inside Victor snapped. In seconds he lost all sense of self-preservation, and before he noticed, he was by the kid’s side, stroking his back.

“It’s ok, it won’t be so bad.” He tried to console the kid. “They’ll probably go easy on you because you’re small.”

“What do we have here?” Came the guard, poking the boy with his stun baton to tease him.

The boy’s sobs only grew louder, as he shook in fear. Probably not his first encounter with that baton.

“He didn’t do it on purpose.” Victor intervened. “He’s sick and scared. Please don’t hurt him.”

“Oh but you see, I turned it on already.” He touched Victor’s nose with his baton, the blue light in the tip looking ominous. “What should I do with it?”

Before Victor could answer, the guard hit him right in the gut with his stick, tasing him. Immediately he lost all the strength he had left in his body and dropped on the floor, the contents of his stomach leaving his body, gushing from his mouth and nose. Victor coughed, trying hard not to choke on his own vomit, as the guard chuckled, playfully patting him on the back.

“Look at you, so strong, trying to be a hero.” The guard teased him. “Everybody knows who you are. Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming to save you, maggot. Here, you are just an orphan, and your parents are as good as dead.”

Victor closed his eyes tightly, not wanting the guard to see him cry.

“And tonight, my little boy, me and my baton will pay you a visit.” Victor opened up his eyes to meet an evil grin. “We are having a little slumber party.”

The baton snapped again on his chest.

“Did you hear what I said?” He felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. He found himself back in the orphanage’s Director’s office, and beside him was the woman he loved. He was safe.

“Yes, it’s taking too long.” He guessed. “Don’t worry, this is just a formality. We were already accepted as Owen’s adoptive parents.”

Right on cue, they heard the office’s door open.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, we have a new child that is having a hard time adapting. I want to thank you for being here. I was very pleased to know you want to continue with Owen’s adoption.” The director shook our hands and took a seat in front of us. “However, I feel there is a need to discuss this a little further.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Andrea fidgeted in her seat.

"Please understand that most of these children have arrived here due to very dire circumstances. Although he's only four, Owen is no exception. It's rare to see a child go through so much at such a young age."

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. Owen looked like a fairly happy child. At least, as happy as one can get living at an orphanage.

"Owen's mother took her own life, she hung herself on a pillar of their old house. The police told us that they found Owen, desperate, trying to pull his mother down. He was alone, his stepfather nowhere to be found. He also presented bruises all over his body. We believe he lived in a very toxic environment and was a victim of abuse." The director declared with a heavy voice.

“Oh my-” Andrea jumped from her seat, covering her mouth. Victor had no idea of what to say. No child should have to go through that.

“We inserted him in a foster family as soon as we could. Children are resilient at this age, and we believed that the sooner Owen was in a loving family, the faster he would move on from that horrible experience. But unfortunately, it didn’t go quite as we expected.” Miss Dillon sat straighter on her chair. “You see, Owen is a very bright child who has seen quite enough. Not many adults can deal with that. But my hope is with you, things will be different. You understand what trauma can do to a child.”

Andrea fidgeted on her chair nervously, remembering her trauma printed all over the tabloids.

“She means me.” Victor confessed, his poker face instinctively on.

Andrea looked at him with wide eyes, astonished with his confession.

“When I was rescued from the orphanage, Miss Dillon was there.” He explained. “She was the one that stayed with me until my father came to pick me up.”

Andrea’s jaw dropped and she remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“I still have nightmares of the atrocities I saw in that God-forsaken place.” The Director’s smile fell into a disgusted frown. “I can only imagine how hard it was for Victor to cope with it all.” She gave him a weak smile. “But now, it can serve as something good. Owen will finally have a family that can understand him and help him the way he needs.”

Victor nodded silently. She was right, but for him, it didn't feel good at all. There’s no measure to what he would have given not to have gone through that, or not to have Owen go through losing his only family in such a horrible way.

“Where do we sign?” He finally spoke. “And when is Owen coming home?”

“Well, we should give you some time to prepare a room-”

“It’s ready.” Victor and his wife spoke in unison.

“Then I guess there’s no point in delaying any further.” Miss Dillon got up from her chair. “You can pick him up next Saturday, after lunch.”

Back in the car, Andrea was silent. Victor didn’t need to ask why, he had blindsided her, by concealing the true nature of his relationship with that orphanage. Miss Dillon was one of the few good outcomes of that incident. Seeing children unprotected in such a manner, and subject to such horrifying actions, Miss Dillon had quit her practice as a child therapist and collected as much as she could from benefactors to open her own orphanage, with the solemn promise that if it depended on her, no child would be forsaken. When Victor saw her again, decades later, they were barely scraping by. He used his money and influence to help the orphanage and would make frequent donations to ensure it ran properly.

"I'm sorry.” He sighed. He had his reasons to keep her out of the loop, but this wasn’t fair on her either. Andrea was his wife, he was supposed to share everything with her. Even the things that were too painful to share.

“You don’t need to be.” She looked at him with earnest eyes, yet she didn’t smile.

“I do.” He looked away from her. “I should have told you right away, I-”

“Victor, when we first spoke about it you told me you hadn’t revealed the whole truth, because it was hard to.” She held his hand on the gearshift. “I understand why you didn't tell me about Miss Dillon at first. You didn’t deceive me. You were very clear it would be this way.”

“Why are you being so understanding?” He frowned. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“Ok, listen, I’m not going to say it doesn’t hurt a little that there are things about you that I don’t know.” Her voice was pained, and he looked at her again, worried. “But I also know this is hard on you. So, even if I don’t fully understand, I’ll support you.”

Victor took his wife’s hand lovingly.

“Thank you.” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it just didn’t seem relevant.”

“I’m more worried about Owen, honestly.” She leaned on her seat with a sigh. “He’s been through a lot.”

Victor had plenty in his heart to let out about that subject, but he chose silence instead, as he drove them to their home.

“Are you studying those again?” Andrea pointed to his books on the nightstand, as they were going to bed.

“There’s a last one that I didn’t finish.” Victor picked it up and showed it to his wife. “Knowledge is power.”

“We’ll be fine.” She sighed while she pulled the covers to enter the bed, by his side. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” He opened the book to the page marked by one of Andrea’s post-its. “I just like to be prepared.”

“Fair enough.” She turned off the light from her nightstand and crawled under the comforter. “I am going to go straight to sleep, I’m beat. Have fun with your books.” She turned to the other side.

“Where are you going?” He pulled her arm. “Come here. Rest your head on my chest.”

Andrea immediately turned to him, coming closer.

“That is much better, you’re warm.” She snuggled against him. “Are you sure you can read with me on you?”

“Wouldn’t I say so if I couldn’t?” He answered flatly, as he snaked his arm under her.

“Ok, ok, I’m here.” She defended herself, nuzzling his chest. “Grumpy.”

He kissed the top of her hair, his hand caressing her curls.

“Better?” He asked with a softer voice.

“So much better.” She looked up to him, and, understanding her cue, he pecked her lips. “Goodnight, handsome.”

“Goodnight, my light.” Victor turned to his book again.

Although it may seem a good idea to parents to give their children as many toys as they can have, even educational ones, they are depriving the child of the biggest satisfaction in life: to earn things. The very fact that they can earn something by working for it, e.g. by cleaning their room or setting the table, gives the child a sense of confidence and self-esteem that praise alone cannot provide.

“Do you think Owen has too many toys?” Victor frowned.

“Humm?” Andrea sighed sleepily.

“Nothing.” He pecked her head again, chuckling. “Go back to sleep.”

Victor closed his book, lost in thought. He had never considered that Owen could have too much and that it would hinder his development. He had had everything and that didn’t seem to affect him much. Victor never cared much about what he had. He liked the horses and some books his father gave him, but what Victor craved most from his parents wasn’t gifts. It was affection.

For some reason, his mind wandered to a particular moment in his childhood, when he found himself staring at the door of his father's study, wondering if he should knock.

“What do you need? Be quick.” His father spoke, not taking his eyes from some document he was reading.

Victor scraped the tip of his shoe on the carpet lightly.

“A child shouldn’t waste an adult's time.” His father reprimanded. “If it’s not important it can wait till dinner.”

It wouldn’t be important in his father’s eyes, but Victor knew his father would probably not be there for dinner.

“Do you know anything about the girl? And the other kids?” He asked in a weak voice. The nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep, maybe some information could ease his mind.

“What girl?” His father wrote a note on the document he was reading.

“The girl from the orphanage.” Victor tried again. “The one that saved my life.”

His father looked at him for the first time since he entered the study, his eyes full of contempt.

“You are never to speak about that day again, do you hear me? It upsets your mother.” His father turned again to the document. “And the girl you mention is dead. She didn’t survive.”

Victor’s heart broke with guilt. Mia was dead, trying to save him. Someone had died because of him. It was supposed to be him, not her. She was so little and fragile, and now she was dead. All because he was careless. This was all his fault. The walls of his father’s study spun, and Victor had to take a step back to steady himself.

“No, she can’t be.” Victor’s voice trembled, tears escaping his eyes. “She can’t be dead! You’re lying!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Apart from his disgusted glance, his father seemed unaffected by his antics. “Lee men don’t cry. Now go make yourself useful and study. You need to be prepared for boarding school next week. Stop staining my carpet.”

He found himself back in his room, his loving wife still in his arms, but his heart was still in his father’s study, staining the carpet with tears. Pictures of his childhood flooded his brain, all those times he tried to please his father and he couldn’t, all those times he craved his father’s love, only to leave empty-handed. He held his wife tighter as she slept and inhaled deeply her perfume, trying to remind himself that he was a married man now, that he was happy, a far cry from the boy he once was. He was loved, and he had conquered the life that he used to fear.

He closed his eyes and felt her warmth, his fingers memorizing every detail of her skin and her curls, his ears mystified as she let out a sleepy sigh, thanking him for his love, and the memories faded away, one by one. However, the worry remained.

Some adults could be oblivious to the real responsibility of becoming a parent, but Victor wasn’t. Raising a child was an extremely important matter, especially for someone with Owen’s background, who had seen evil at such a tender age. Owen deserved the very best, and Andrea deserved the ideal husband and father by her side. But this wasn’t a business meeting, something that Victor could tackle with facts and figures alone. This particular task required feelings, and the knowledge of what it’s like to be in a family. Victor had a father and a mother, but he never had a family. He had progenitors, but not parents, not really. Well, he had his mother, but even so it was only for a short period of his life. His kidnappers had taken everything else away.

So how could he be a good father, if he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to be one? Even worse, what if he became his own father? He remembered how his father could be to his staff, he remembered how he acted, cold and dismissive, and it dawned on him that he was the same way. He remembered how his father’s employees looked at his father, with this blend of fear and respect, and wasn’t that exactly the way his staff looked at him? He blamed his father for so many things, but what if the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree? What if, even unwillingly, he would treat his son the same way?

Andrea had a good loving family, she didn’t have this problem. Her team loved her; they brought cookies on Fridays and had pizza together whenever Victor had a meeting and couldn’t pick her up for lunch. Andrea knew things like how to play hide and seek, and how to roast the perfect marshmallow with a candle, and what candies were the best. They went to the toy store and immediately she filled a basket with her childhood favorite things: some books, some playdoh, legos, and a slinky. She played with the slinky as they roamed through the store, Victor finding it insufferable, but that was his flaw, not hers. He did not understand what slinkies meant to a child; she did.

So what was his solution? The same as his father’s. The affection he didn’t know how to provide, Victor had compensated for in advance with toys, purchasing every educational toy he put his eyes on. As his father would, and had. Victor got everything he wanted, except for love. And he was doing the same thing already for his son. The thought disgusted him.

Victor left the bed carefully, trying not to wake Andrea up, going to Owen’s room. Although he had painted the walls of his son’s room himself, although he had decorated everything with the meticulous care of a loving father, all he could see now was ostentation, and it horrified him. Toys to fill the hole Victor would no doubt leave in his son’s heart. He couldn’t help but feel dirty. Not only was he being a lousy and lazy father, throwing money at everything, he was stunting his son’s development. That was despicable.

He started removing most of the toys from the shelves, leaving only the ones Andrea had picked. He would need to discuss it more thoroughly with Andrea later, but for now, he needed to make sure he wasn't doing anything wrong. He then looked at Owen's bookshelf, asking himself if all the books he had picked were age appropriate, even if on the cover it said so. Skimming through each one of them, Victor asked himself if stories of killing a wolf could lead to an adult that did not respect animals, or if reading about kissing a sleeping princess would teach Owen to love without consent. Soon he was surrounded by books and toys, frantically going through all of them, his mind reeling as he tried to discern the best options to keep.

His frenzy was interrupted by his wife's sleepy voice.

“What are you doing?” He turned to see her rubbing her eyes. "It's four AM.”

“Go back to bed, it’s cold.” He turned to her. “I just have to organize these, I will join you in a minute.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do it in the morning. Come back to bed.” She came closer and held his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“I want to do it now!” He pulled away, grimacing as he observed his own reaction. “I just want to organize this, you don’t need to worry about me. I need to make sure everything is in order. Go back to bed.”

“Victor, Owen won’t care if his books are not alphabetically ordered.” Andrea looked at him with worry. He knew she meant well, but that only infuriated him more.

“Then what will he care about?!?” He felt himself snap again. “This is all I know how to do.” Holding a stuffed toy, he sat on the bed. “I’m terrible at everything else.”

Victor stared at the toy in his hands as he tried to keep himself in check. He hated when his feelings got the best of him, but he hated even more that he woke his wife up, and now she felt the need to comfort him. He abhorred being a nuisance.

Victor felt Andrea’s arms tighten their grip around his chest. He held her hands. They were cold.

“Do you want to catch a cold? You’re freezing.” He turned around, trying to pull her to his lap. “Come here, I’ll keep you warm.”

In a matter of seconds, Victor had successfully placed her in his lap, her arms resting on his shoulders, fingers running through his hair. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to talk.

“Are you going to tell me what’s upsetting you?” She pressed.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He wouldn’t dare look her in the eye, shame consuming him.

“You want to quit?!?” Andrea jumped in his lap, alarmed.

“No, I don’t want to quit.” He was offended. “I would never do that, especially with something so important. What I mean to say is that I feel unprepared.”

“No parent is prepared, Victor.”

“Spare me the clichés, you know what I mean.” He snapped, exasperated. “You know my family, you know how my childhood was.” He hesitated for a second, sharing insecurities wasn’t his thing. But this was his wife. He had to be truthful. “What if I’m just like my father? What if I’m not cut out to be a father? Owen has been through so much already, he deserves good loving parents. What if I can’t be any of those things?”

“Nonsense.” She chuckled. “Of course you are lo-”

“You didn’t like me when we first met.” He interrupted her, defying her. “Not for a long time.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“You had all those nicknames for me.” He frowned at her. “King of Highhorseland. You called me a bully.”

"But now I know better. I know who you truly are, and I know I was mistaken."

“You are kind, you see the best in me.” He caressed her curls. “I have to admit sometimes I question if I really do have all those qualities you see in me.”

“Victor…”

“I’m not good at expressing feelings in a way most people understand. I can also be cold and dismissive. Most people find me unpleasant to be with. Do you think those are traits a good parent has? What if I can’t be loving and caring in the way Owen needs? All I know how to do is to organize and buy him things. Just like my father did.”

“Ok, let me just set something straight.” Andrea turned to him in all seriousness. “You are one of, if not the, most caring person I have ever met. You are upset and still all you could be concerned about a few moments ago was that I was getting cold, and here I am in your arms now.”

Victor’s gaze turned to the floor again. Again, she was seeing the best in him, ignoring all the blatant flaws he had. She held his face, making him look her in the eyes.

"You are nothing like your father. You will be an excellent father to Owen and you will be able to understand his needs even more than I will because you had those very same needs. You'll be able to relate in ways I can't possibly ." She came closer, her nose almost touching his. "Do you know why I also think you'll be extremely caring? Because parents that don't give a crap don't waste time late at night wondering if they will be good parents."

Victor lifted a hand to her face. That light she had in her eyes, that beautiful light that warmed him, that could dissolve any ice wall in a heartbeat, he wished he had it. That light could do miracles.

She got out of his lap, sitting close to the headboard.

“Come, lean on me.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this.” He instantly refuted.

“Victor Lee, will you let me be a good wife and take care of my husband?” She pretended to scold him. “Come.”

“I’m too heavy, I will probably crush you.” Despite his protest, he obediently entered the comfort of her arms, his head leaning on her chest, but still worried. “Let me know if you have trouble breathing.”

“You are not as big as you think.” She teased, earning from him a chuckle.

He had to admit, being in her arms and listening to her heartbeat was amazingly comforting. Her fingers ran through his hair, calming and nurturing, and for a moment he forgot his anxiety, and just watched the sun start to rise through the window. When his mind was still, he finally listened to his heart. The love he felt for his family would make up for any lack of experience he would have. This was him treading uncharted territory, like so many times before in his life, but this time he wasn’t alone. Along with his heart was another heartbeat, sweet and steady, the one he was hearing now.

“Thank you.” He whispered shyly, expecting a teasing remark .

None came. When he looked up, he saw the love of his life sleeping soundly, her fingers still threaded in his hair. Victor could almost laugh at the sight. He should've known she would fall asleep.

Slowly and carefully so as not to wake her up, he gathered her in his arms and cradled her to bed. It was indeed pleasant to be taken care of, but he liked it so much better this way, protecting her.

Author’s note: If you liked it, don’t forget to share your thoughts with me! It always brings warmth to my heart! And my ASK box is open! I love talking and hearing from you, beautiful people! Lots of love!

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

A World Full of Bullies, and the Four Kids Who Never Stop Fighting Them

This is a story about my four children and the small town they live in, a story about bullies and the people who stand up to them. Let me start by introducing the four of them. We’ll refer to them as the Sibling Mafia (this will be important later.) Each of them is as unique as the different parts of a harmony. They grew up closer than close. Best friends, siblings, confidants. They have their moments of disagreement, sibling rivalry, chaos. But there doesn’t go a day without them seeking out one another’s opinions and comfort. Theirs is a bond that can’t be replicated, or completely understood. The 17 year old, we’ll call her ‘Red,’ is the only girl in the bunch. She’s an artistic bisexual disaster (her words, not mine,) she’s riddled with equal parts anxiety and hope, and she holds her own like you wouldn’t believe (she’s surrounded by guys in her work, and out does them at every turn.) She’s five-foot-zero inches of kickass and love. And there isn’t a single person who can hold her back when she wants something. She’s had a rough several years, found herself beaten down to her most fractured level. But she fought back with every ounce of strength available to her and clawed her way back to the surface. She’s thriving. She’s scared. She’s dreaming of her future. (Her brothers have so often looked up to her, I think Red often feels like she’s surrounded by puppy dogs who would willingly battle-rush the world if it ever failed her.)  The 18 year old boy, we’ll call him ‘Blue,’ has high functioning autism and social communications disorder. The world is full of lines he’s steadily trying to figure out how to cross without changing the flow he relies on. From working in the adult world, to trying to hold on to the childhood he isn’t quite ready to let go of, Blue still manages to find the space and time to be the big brother he’s always been. It’s the most important thing to him. More important than his love for just about anything else. That has always been his choice. There isn’t a single one of his siblings that he doesn’t love ferociously. And though his emotions are sometimes tumultuous, he always finds a way to make what he really feels known to those closest to him. 

The 14 year old, we’ll call him ‘Purple,’ is a trans (female to male), bisexual, magnetic ray of absolute fricken sunshine. It’s impossible not to want to know more about him, to laugh with him, to share in his infectious well of joy. There isn’t a mean bone in his body, not a single inch of hatred in his DNA. From the moment he was born, he had a smile on his face. The world was his to make happy. And even though these last few years have been one hell of a confusing ride for him, he’s never stopped looking at the world around him like it’s something he wants to change for the better. The  almost-11 year old, we’ll call him ‘Green,’ is a pint sized sarcastic ball of genius who doesn’t see just how important he is to the people around him. His comedy is endless, a shield to protect himself and others from the nastier things life tries to throw. He’s smarter than the average 11 year old, but refuses to jump ahead a grade or two because he ‘just wants to enjoy school.’ And though he likes to pretend that he can handle everything that comes his way, there are times when it’s easy to see how young he truly is. It’s those moments that his siblings are his anchor to an uncertain universe, the chains that keep his gravity from failing him. And they are the epitome of his best friends, his comfort, his home. Red, Blue, Purple and Green have a lot in common. From Red and Purple loving art and music, to Green and Blue loving video games, to all four loving DnD night. They love to adventure together, to share inside jokes, to create beautiful mayhem on a daily basis. They love to learn together, to forget to do their chores together, to ask the world to ‘listen, dammit’ -together.  They also have trauma in common. Losses of those they loved, pains they’ve all had to feel, things a parent can’t protect them from... And there is so goddamn much I wish I could have protected them from. When Blue was in middle school, there was a boy, we’ll call him ‘Misunderstood.’ To him, Blue’s autism made him a prime target in the bullying arena. Like some other kids, Misunderstood would say mean things, call Blue names, make him momentarily feel like he would never fit into the world he so desperately wanted to be a part of. But what Misunderstood didn’t know was that Blue had a better world around him already, one that would come to save him when it counted most.  One day in gym class, Blue was playing basketball with his friends. He tossed the basketball, and it didn’t quite go where Blue was expecting. It sailed at Misunderstood and hit him in the head. It didn’t matter to Misunderstood that it was an accident. All that mattered was this could be a perfect excuse for retaliation. He closed the distance on Blue and punched him in the head. He knocked him out. But in that same moment, Blue’s friends and sister ran to the rescue. They rallied around him, chased Misunderstood away. Protected their friend and brother, because they knew that was exactly what Blue would have done for them. Because Blue is the sort of person to give a stranger the shirt off his back if they really needed it. Something of which Misunderstood couldn’t see. Imagine my terror when I got a phone call from the police. It was a sobering sight to see police cars and an ambulance when I squealed into the school parking lot. There is no way to explain the feelings of helplessness and fury I was inundated with. You know, logically, that your children will break bones and get stitches and have broken hearts and nightmares and a myriad of other pains that are simply a part of life. And you also know, unfortunately, that bullies exist. You never think that anything like this can happen, until it does, however. That’s not naivete. It’s not denial. It’s the hope that the world might not just be as awful as you think it is. Knowing that world proved that hope wrong, even for a moment, makes you want to wrap your children up in your arms and never let go. But that’s not how life works. There isn’t an excuse for what Misunderstood did. But there are things to understand. I can raise my children to be good, caring, kind people. But I have no say in what happens in other children’s lives. Was Misunderstood being cared for? Did he have parents who gave a shit about him? Or was he neglected? Was he lacking the resources to explain and feel his emotions properly? Was his life hell, and he just needed someone to see? I asked myself those things, trying to understand. I even asked the other adults in charge of the situation. But because Misunderstood was a minor, I had no legal right to know. It turned out, in the end, that Misunderstood was expelled. His parents moved him to a different school district. And Blue was left with the question he always seemed to ask when another child chose him to target: ‘Why me, Mom?’

There is no why. Because, like I said, nothing excuses what happened. What I wanted him to focus on was what happened inside the event. And what happened was loyalty, love, friendship and the coming together of individuals to stand up to a bully. Now, at 18 years old and nearly six feet, Blue still has those friends. And he has the lesson they taught him, not the one that Misunderstood wanted to teach. And he doesn’t ask ‘Why me, Mom?’ anymore. He asks, ‘Why not me?’ as he now steps in when someone needs protection. Most recently, Purple, my 14 year old, has had to face bullying of his own. Purple didn’t come out till a year and a half ago, and the daily progress to being the person he wants to be has been beautiful and brilliant. But there is another boy, who we’ll call ‘Unwarranted,’ who has pulled out all the stops to make Purple feel panic, anxiety, terror.  Back when covid was nearly past its first upsweep and all the schools were still closed down, Purple was desperately missing his friends. It was agreed, after a fair deal of hashing out the precautions, that he could see one of his best friends at the park. Purple hadn’t come out yet at that point, still struggling with what it would mean for all the relationships in his life. But the idea of seeing someone who he literally grew up with after being so long apart was too good for him to pass up. They met at the local park, a couple of other friends catching up with them there, and they hung out.  It was supposed to be an innocent, happy time for a kid who only ever tried to make people happy. It ended in police involvement and kids being physically hurt. Unwarranted had shown up with two much older kids. But the part he played was entirely his choice as all three terrorized the younger kids, with words and with physical threats that ended with large rocks being thrown. One child was hit in the head. My child was hit in the side. Both of them ended up hurt. All while they were running to Purple’s friend’s house for safety.  Unfortunately, there was so little we could do. It didn’t happen on school grounds, so the schools couldn’t be involved. The police couldn’t tell me much more other than they knew who the three bullies were, having been in trouble with the police before. And I couldn’t know anything else because they were minors. To protect my child, I couldn’t let him go to the park alone anymore. I drove him everywhere. I tried to help him forget. And over time, he did. Until the beginning of this school year. Purple started his Freshman year looking for new beginnings. He’d already firmly cemented himself in coming out, was totally authentic in who he is and who he wants to be. His friends are still his friends, completely accepting and loving him. And he tackled his first week of school with intensity and excitement.  In the back of my mind, however, I had never forgotten what happened at the park. The mother in me held on to it, because I couldn’t take the risk that something worse could happen. I hadn’t been able to protect or avoid what happened to Blue. But maybe I could protect Purple. I got in contact with the new principal at the high school, explaining the situation and that I did not want Purple to be in any classes with Unwarranted. He vehemently agreed. Purple doesn’t have a single class with him. It’s worked out well. Or it did, until they passed each other in the hall. In that brief moment, when classes were changing and kids were hurrying through the halls, Unwarranted took it upon himself to pick right up where he left off. Except now, Unwarranted isn’t the same size as Purple. He’s over six feet, athletic, and knows how intimidated Purple already was by him. The result was Purple incoherent with fear. There’s a reason I have referred to all four kids together as the Sibling Mafia. Because if you hurt one of them, you hurt all of them. And there’s hell to pay. Red and Blue, who are both Seniors at the high school, heard about the incident almost immediately. (It’s a small town, so small school, and word travels fast.) They didn’t go to their next classes. They took Purple to the office instead, and demanded something be done. They wanted answers and a resolution, and they wanted it fast. I received a phone call about it all from the guidance counselor who was just gushing over the bond they all shared, and the way they’d rallied around Purple. But it wasn’t just Red and Blue who rallied. It was their friends.  You see, if you’re friends with one of them, you’re friends with all of them. And in a place like this, it grows exponentially. So many people love Purple, and Red, and Blue, and Green. And it shows. The principal and counselor and school resource officer worked on a plan to keep Purple and Unwarranted from ever crossing paths. It was good. It was a start. Unfortunately, it did nothing for when the kids were walking home from school. Because Unwarranted decided to make prodding and inappropriate comments while walking behind him. Only, this time Blue and his best friend, we’ll call him ‘Orange,’ and two of Purple’s friends were there to do something about it. Because Unwarranted had a lot to say when he knew Purple was too scared to retaliate. (Red was with a friend, but was furious when she found out.) But being faced with the reality of a whole group who were more than capable of protecting Purple made him back right off. No fists were thrown. No one got hurt. And everyone made it home safely. 

And Purple came to me, despite his fear and wariness, to ask... ‘What if something is wrong with Unwarranted? What if something happened at home to make him act this way? Maybe we can help...’ My response was to breathe. To stare at this kid of mine, because the compassion in those words made my heart hurt. Here was this boy who was obviously being terrorized by someone else, and all he could think about was making sure that bully was okay? I told Purple, ‘You have no idea how amazing your heart is.’ I told him, ‘I don’t know what might be going on with Unwarranted. And it’s wonderful of you to want to help. But you also have the right to be safe, whether you’re in school or walking on the streets. You have the right to have a happy learning experience without fear of being cornered in the hallways. For now, as much as I know you want to figure it all out, my priority is making sure that you are safe.’ He nodded, hugged me, and went about his day.

I read somewhere once that bullies are predators. They will go after what appears to them to be the weakest prey. Trying to stop a bully by teaching a child to stand up to them is like teaching the weakest gazelle to be stronger. The predator will not stop going after the weakest prey, it will only stop going after that target. But what if that target was never weak to begin with? Purple may not have the physical attributes of a football player or a wrestler. But he’s got something even better. He’s a wolf with a pack who would be lesser without his knowledge and love. And there’s nothing that pack wouldn’t do to protect him, just like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make their lives better. The Sibling Mafia extends beyond blood, it seems.  Now you might be wondering, where’s the almost-11 year old Green in all this? Green came into the first three’s lives when Purple was a little under three years old. At that point, they were already bonded and closer than I could have ever imagined. But the second Green’s little wiggly self came home, the change was immediate and overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not even remotely. You see, that bond transformed. It grew, it solidified, it settled into a whole new identity. It somehow made them far more whole than any of us realized they could be. Because all three older kids had lessons to teach and love to give, and with Green they could do all that together. Without any encouragement from me, because kids don’t need to be raising other kids, Green grew up being the literal center of their world. And they all loved each other more because of it. Green is just a little guy. He’s small and skinny and scrappy, full of wit and genius that often leaves the rest of us wondering where he got it from. He looks at his siblings like he wants to give them the universe. And he goes through life like he might just give it a reason to wise up to the possibility of goodness if it tries hard enough. Nothing holds him down for long. Events, losses, physical injury. He bounces back so fast that the rest of us get whiplash. 

But what happens when an event causes loss and physical injury at the same time?

Just this past week, the kids were walking home from school. Red has Senior release, which allows her to get out of school early most days. So it was just Blue, Purple and Green, walking with their friend Orange.  In the past, there have been bullies. Two of which I have mentioned. But some never made it to the ‘something we really have to worry about’ stage. One of these bullies, particular to Blue, decided it was time to graduate to that stage in a very dangerous way. We’ll call him, ‘Mistake.’ Because what he chose to do was a big mistake on his part. The kids had made it to just before the opening of our neighborhood. They were on the sidewalk. They’d been carefree, joking, laughing, talking, when a vehicle suddenly sped its way toward them on the road. The vehicle had a passenger and a driver: Mistake. And as Mistake accelerated, one of them threw a full bottle of Powerade out the window as hard as he could. We’re fairly certain he was aiming for Blue. 

It hit Green instead.  At that speed, with that much force, something as innocuous as a bottle of liquid can do real damage. It was only sheer luck that it hit Green in the leg. If it had hit him in the head, we’d all be sitting in a hospital room right now keeping vigil. That being said, Green is small. He’s skinny. The impact to his leg was enough to damage the muscles in his thigh. You can see the impact point, a literal imprint of the bottle on his skin. The bruising is very clear. The recovery will be slow. The first thing Green did was cling to Purple. Orange and Blue yelled after the car, but it had sped quickly away. The boys managed to get Green home right away. I had been working at my computer. And the next thing I knew, Green is in my arms, incoherent and in pain, crying so hard his whole body was shaking. Calling the police was an easy decision. Trying to hide my instant and unbridled rage was so much harder. The police are treating this as assault on a minor. The bottle was collected as evidence. Green was evaluated by physicians and will thankfully make a full physical recovery. But the emotional damage seems to be much worse. Green is not himself. He’s clingy, he’s worried, he’s having nightmares. He doesn’t want to walk home anymore, even knowing his brothers and Orange are there to protect him. His birthday is barely a week away, and he is trying so hard to be enthusiastic about it. But the bruise and pain in his leg keep offering reminders. The idea of leaving school grounds without one of his siblings or me makes him panic. And the light of innocence in his eyes is that much duller.

It was a senseless, useless act. One that’s rattled us all. 

Blue and Purple are blaming themselves, as though they should have been able to see it coming and protect Green. Red is angry that she didn’t just wait to walk with them, as though her being there would have stopped it altogether. Their grandparents, friends, teachers, counselors, and even random people I have never heard of are all up in arms. They want someone to pay. I think Green just wants to pretend it never happened at all. 

To be honest, I want Mistake to pay, too. Because it doesn’t matter who he was aiming at, this was clearly assault. Clearly intended to do harm. And I’m tired of feeling like I can’t protect my children.  When did the world become so cruel? When did parents stop teaching their children that kindness is not a weakness? When will I ever feel okay with sending my children out into such an unforgiving world? I know I’m angry. In fact, I’m enraged. But... I also still have hope. Green’s birthday is steadily approaching. The kids are doing everything they can think of to make him smile again, make him laugh, prove he’s loved and, most of all, safe. They’re using their hard earned money to get him gifts, to surprise him with a puppy they’re buying themselves, to give him his normalcy back. And I’m watching them hold on to each other through it all. Like they always have. Like, I hope, that they always will. The future is coming at them quickly. Red, Blue and Orange want to get an apartment together after high school. Purple and Green have decided they want to live together forever. And they’ve all decided that they have to make time, once a week or more, to be back under one roof.  We live in a small town, but they’re going to move on outside of it. Because the world outside of it is big, and they are well aware of that fact. They want to tackle it in their own way, individually and together. They want to see where this life takes them, no matter what tries to stop them. And they want to share that journey with each other, and with anyone who wants to be a part of it. I never could have predicted how close those four amazing kids would become, or how much they’ve already changed the world just by being who they are. They’re my hope, you see. In a world where anyone can be cruel, they choose to be kind. They choose to be the example by which everyone around them learns what kindness is. Misunderstood, Unwarranted, and Mistake are learning about kindness, too. Whether they realize it or not. Because in their misunderstood existence, in their unwarranted actions, in their irreversible mistakes, the kindness of the Sibling Mafia seems to be far more powerful.  This is a story about a world full of bullies and the four kids who never stop fighting them. One act of love, kindness, and hope at a time...

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

The One Who Came After

Prompt- To normal Terrans, the Tesseract was strange and confusing, no one really understood how powerful it was or what it really did. That was until you came along...

Warning- Endgame Spoilers (Does that even need to be a warning anymore?), cursing, angst, maybe smut at some point idk

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It had only been a minute since the dust had settled, since Tony had taken his last breath and was being tended to by a crowd of medics, since Thanos had taken his and was left alone. No one had the time to sit down and recuperate, to come to the realization that it was actually over. Pepper was still beside her fallen husband, along with Peter and Rhodey. Sam, Steve and Bucky were all together, making a plan to scout out all of the injured. At this point, nothing could surprise any of them, each person's soul, body and mind was drained of all feeling.

So, when a bright blue flash of light erupted a few feet away from the fallen hero, it seemed like some robotic movement to everyone as they turn and point every weapon available at the sudden movement.

“Which one of you mortals...keeps fucking... With. My. Stone,” Your breathing was labored and each word was a desperate, dry wheeze.

It took everything in your entire being to not drop down and pass out. Within a week (your worlds week anyway) the universe your world resided in had been flipped upside down three separate times. It had taken an entire unit from each planet to keep the universe from collapsing on itself, and after the third strike, they sent you out to see what in the ever living fuck was happening.

“Who are you? What do you want?” You turned to see a tall, blonde man walking towards you, a hammer and shield in hand.

“I want to know who the hell keeps trying to turn my universe inside out like it’s some kind of reversible jacket!” you growl out, meeting the strangers gaze and refusing to back down, “Don’t you dipshits know to never mess with another universes stones? W-who are you to decide what ha-happens with my world?”

The exhaustion that racked your body made it hard to focus on the figure that stood directly in front of you, and it didn’t take long for you to fall down to your knees. “You-you have no idea-” your vision blurred and you had to place a hand on the ground to steady yourself.

The man who originally approached you knelt down to your height, forgetting about the threat you might have imposed and making sure that you weren’t about to die, “Okay, okay. We can talk about this a little later, we’re all exhausted and need to deal with...things” The stranger states, glancing around at all of the injured and fallen soldiers.

“What happened here?” you ask quietly, weakly looking up into the man’s bright blue eyes.

You didn’t get to hear his reply before your consciousness slipped into the darkness.

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

“S-so, let me get this straight...” Dr. Banner mutters before looking you in the eyes, “You’re from a different universe? Dimension? Thing? That resides inside the Tesseract, and almost falls apart every time the tesseract is used?”

“Yes, I came here to stop whoever was having the bright idea to activate it every five goddamn minutes,” you mutter out groggily, fisting the burn of sleep from your eyes, “which turned out to be a pack of nimrods that, where I’m from, wouldn’t do any of this shit-“

“How’d you travel here? Get outside of the tesseract?” Steve, asked curiously, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“Some magical shit that this dude-“ you lazily motion toward the man in the red cape, “did, I’m not sure what he called it. It doesn’t matter anyways, what matters is that you stop using that stone or I’ll kill you all,”

“Trust me sweetheart, we just defeated the most powerful being in the universe, you don’t have a chance,” scoffs a man from the corner of the room, stripping himself of his red tinted goggles and placing them on a small table next to him.

“Hey bird boy, we didn’t have to fight him twice in my universe. Oh and your goggles look stupid,” you snap, glaring at the man who now looked at you with shock and anger in his gaze

You didn’t have the energy to deal with this group of random miscreants. You recognized all of them, though. Each one was a part of your world back at home, but none as important there as they are here.

“Your from an alternate dimension where Thanos didn’t win the first time?” Dr. Banner asks from his corner by a lab table.

“Um yeah. My team got to him when we found out he was the cause behind the Loki disaster in Los Angeles. We knew he would be a future threat so we didn’t let it get out of control...unlike you guys who almost let your entire universe get destroyed,” the harsh pain in your head hadn’t subsided and you really wished these bafoons would leave you alone.

“There’s a Loki in your dimension too?” You looked at the...thick...version of Thor before answering.

“Yeah Pillsbury doughboy, he’s alive and well there too. Yours isn’t though, I can tell from the emptiness radiated from your body,” your comment was thoughtless as your powers weren’t a big deal back home. Almost everyone had them, the special few were the ones who were born sterile of all supernatural genes.

The room fell into silence after your words and some of the onlookers left the room, including Thor. You were left to be stared at by Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts and a young boy who you hadn’t recognized.

“I-is Mr. Stark alive in your dimension?” The boy asked, tears falling from his has as his trembling body struggled to keep upright.

You managed the strength to get off the examination table and walk up to the poor boy, “if it makes you feel any better kid, in my universe, Tony Stark retired and is living an ordinary life with his daughter and wife in Tahoe. Has been for the last five years of his life. But let me tell you, your Tony did an immeasurable thing to save an immeasurable amount of lives. Is he still here?” You ask quietly. You felt the piercing hurt from this lost boy and easily found it within you to try and help, forgetting about the pain these people had caused your world.

“Why? What do you want with him?” Steve asked crudely, a hard stare set your way.

“I can help him. I know I might seem like a threat but tell me, what more could I do to this world that hasn’t already been done?” Your statement seemed heavy on the three pairs of eyes that followed your lumbering movements as you clumsily made the short journey to the door, “please let me help you so you can help me,”

Miss Pepper Potts was the one to move first, quickly helping you out of the room and into the quiet corridor where she proceeded to lead you to another medical room. This one was filled with machines and IV poles, all of them hooking up to one, completely broken man.

“He’s brain dead, can’t breath on his own, his heart stopped beating on its own, almost all of his bones are broken, lungs are punctured...h-he isn’t even really living right now,” Pepper choked on her words, a trembling hand covering her mouth to mask the sobs that bubbles up from her throat.

“I can help, just, be ready to catch me when I pass out,” you mumble calmly and walk up to the lifeless body.

You knew this had to be done. It would hurt but these people needed this man.

Though it was normal to have some form of powers in your universe, it wasn’t necessarily normal to have the type of powers you specifically possessed. Sure everyone had some for of mild self healing, but yours was a bit different.

“Tell me what the biggest issues with him are again,”

At this point Steve and the broken boy had entered the room and were watching from the doorway.

“I-I can’t remember it all-“ “it’s okay, just tell me the body parts and I can heal them,”

“Brain, heart, and-and his lungs,” she shot out quickly as you placed your hands on his chest and forehead.

“Okay, y/n, don’t freak out...” you mumble to yourself, “Please don’t touch either of us before it’s done. It could mess up the process,” the warning was short and you left little time after for the others to agree before a bright blue light seeped from your hands and into Tony’s body.

Pain instantly went into your brain, heart and lungs and you had to lean onto the man so you wouldn’t collapse to the floor. “Come on, come on,” you mumble and strengthen the flow of energy from your body to his.

You let out a loud groan of pain as the process finally started to work properly. You could heal anyone, anything you wanted. That’s what made you special, but there were always two sides to ones powers where you were from, and the other side of yours was taking parts of the victims injuries and moving them to your own body. You thankfully had a say of which injuries you would take on but you had to take on a certain amount for your powers to work. At this point in time you chose to take on a few broken bones and a couple of punctures to your lungs. Best to spread out the pain than focus on one area.

“Somebody. Call, Dr. Banner,” you call out the order and put your last efforts into healing the parts of his brain that were damaged the most and suddenly there was a different source of wheezing and coughing in the room.

Tony had woken up.

“Oh my god!” Pepper gasped, a trembling hand shooting out to cover her mouth.

The teenager that had remained quiet for most of your consciousness suddenly  broke out into violent sobs and fell to his knees, quickly being comforted by Pepper wrapping her arms around his shaking form.

“Tony can you hear me?” Your eyes found his and it only to a moment before he shook his head, wheezing out a quiet ‘yes’.

“Alright, Alright. You’re gonna be okay, y-your gonna be fine. Stay calm, I know it f-feels weird but you can’t fight it. don’t fight it,” your words began to slur together as your consciousness started to slip away. 

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A/N: yeah that’s right, i'm writing another series when I have no time or effort stored away to properly finish this or any of my other series or drafts. Please enjoy and don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!

[megalony]

Family ties- Part 11

Here is the next part of my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone will like, thank you all for the feedback it is much appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls

Series taglist: @flaminasteroid

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) were single parents but they are trying to raise their kids together as one big family. Now they’re finally having a baby of their own, but that proves hard when there’s a problem with their baby.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"He has sepsis."

"But that's blood poisoning." Ben's words were fired back at the doctor as quickly as he spoke but there was very little fire behind his words and they were spoken very quietly as if he was afraid that saying them any louder would make them too real to cope with.

Billy couldn't have that, he was a baby, he wasn't even one week old yet. He was too small with an immune system that was far too weak to be able to cope with having this condition. Ben had had this condition before and it had been Hell for him to get through, he didn't see how his baby boy could manage that. It was a condition that could easily kill.

"How do you treat it?" (Y/n) needed to know that there was something the doctor could do to help Billy. She had to be told what they were going to do because if she was told there was nothing to help Billy, she wouldn't know how to cope. They had gotten this far when no one thought they would even get through the pregnancy, it couldn't all be for nothing at this stage. Billy was here, he was alive and well with his heart exactly where it should have been in the first place. They couldn't lose him now.

"Sepsis is the body's reaction to an infection, the blood starts to damage the tissues in the body. We've started Billy on a high dose of antibiotics to treat the infection and they will treat his blood too. We've taken him off the blood thinners and he's been sedated. But if the infection spreads to his heart and the sepsis attacks his heart... his chances will be slim."

Billy was only a baby and with his operation, his immune system was already going to be on high alert. Now it was attacking his healthy tissue because his body was reacting very badly to an infection that was happening in his chest. If the infection got worse or spread to his heart and the sepsis didn't go away, it would attack his heart and he would die. He already had a high temperature that was still rising. If they didn't get this under control, Billy wasn't going to live for very much longer.

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

"What is it?" Ben's words were gentle but his expression was rather blank, the same as it had been for roughly four hours now. His eyes were close to shutting, his green orbs were fading in colour and broken like cracked glass and his skin was duller than grey. Everything about his complexion screamed sleep but everything inside his head screamed for help.

His eyes slowly drifted from looking at his boy, to look over at (Y/n) who was a few inches in front of him. They were both sat inches apart next to the incubator Billy was held within, neither of them had moved or even stood up from their seats for the past four hours. Billy had a temperature that kept on rising and had been put on a ventilator to help him breathe since it seemed to have become a fight that he was now losing.

He was sedated to keep him calm and let his body try and fight the infection, so both parents knew he wasn't going to be moving or wriggling or waking up anytime soon. But they still felt the need to watch over him as if they thought he was going to wake up and be perfectly fine.

If Billy got any worse, he wasn't going to survive and Ben and (Y/n) needed to be here in case he got any worse or even if he got better. They weren't leaving him when he was like this.

During these past few hours, the couple hadn't really said anything because there was nothing for them to say. Silence was their friend right now but Ben had broken that silence because he could see the wheels turning in (Y/n)'s mind. Every time she glanced over at him, there was something in her eyes that Ben had seen before, she wanted to ask or tell him something but she didn't know how to say it or how to approach the subject. It was just like a few months back when she wanted to talk about what they would do if Billy's health took a bad turn. That told Ben that whatever she was thinking, might not be something he would want to hear.

But he couldn't keep catching her staring at him, bursting to tell or ask him something without the courage to go through with it.

Tilting her head up, (Y/n) locked her burning, tired eyes with Ben's and she suddenly felt her stomach churning. She didn't want to say what was on her mind because she didn't want to think that the events would go down that route. But if things happened the way she thought they might, she would have to tell Ben sooner or later.

(Y/n) let her eyes cast downwards to look back at Billy as she slowly ran her hand over his small tufts of hair. Feeling how his skin was burning against her own like she had just rested her hand on a simmering pan.

"If the antibiotics don't work, I'd like to hold him before..." (Y/n) didn't have the guts to say it but she knew Ben would understand what she meant. Her voice was tentative and quiet, but her tone wasn't nearly as broken as how she felt by saying those dreaded words. If Billy didn't recover from this, (Y/n) wanted a chance to hold him before he passed away. She didn't want the first time she or Ben got to hold him to be when he was already dead. They had snatched him away the moment he was born and had locked him up in an incubator for the following days since his operation. If he wasn't going to survive, they should have the chance to hold him.

"Okay." Ben pressed his closed hand to his mouth as he looked back at Billy to try and stop himself from crying. He had shed far too many tears for there to be enough water left in his body by this point, he didn't want to shed anymore because each tear drained him to the point Ben felt like he was going to collapse.

"I, um... If he dies, I d-don't want him cremated, o-or to have a post-mortem." (Y/n) looked up at the ceiling as if it would magically stop the tears from falling or tip them into the back of her head but it didn't, and it did nothing for the way her throat crackled and croaked as she spoke up about her thoughts. (Y/n) didn't want her baby boy to be cut open any more than he already had been for his operation. If he passed away, the reasoning behind his death would be crystal clear, there would be no need to hurt him any more by cutting him up like butchered meat. (Y/n) wouldn't let them do that to him.

But the more she thought about it, the worse it felt because she didn't want Billy to be cremated either. She couldn't bear the thought of what would happen to him if he was cremated, the thought of flames flickering and licking at him made her want to scream. Burying him wasn't much of a better thought but it was something (Y/n) would just about be able to cope with if things went that way.

They could visit his grave if he was buried, they would be reassured that he would be safe in a coffin without being hurt or butchered any more. He would be at some sense of peace that way.

Ben didn't have the will power to say anything, his mind couldn't even fathom out what he was supposed to say in response to that, so he simply nodded in return. He agreed with what she was saying and he understood where she was coming from, he was fine with her wishes, even if he didn't want to talk or think about them just yet.

"Have we done the right thing?" (Y/n) whispered so quietly as she pressed her lips together in a thin line. Her vision blurred from the sudden downpour of tears that distorted Ben's image, but she couldn't help but feel like her conscience was now telling her off. Advising her or reprimanding her that what they were doing and had done might not have been in Billy's best interests after all.

"What do you mean?"

"I know he won't understand, b...but he's still got some kind of conscience, hasn't he? He was sedated the moment he was born and then after a big operation and finally waking up, he gets this. We chose this for him, w-what if we just chose to torture him?"

(Y/n) knew that no one could remember anything from being a baby or even from being a toddler. Their minds simply blanked those memories out because they didn't have proper thought processes or speech or the ability to understand what was happening around them. But the fact was that when Billy was awake, he must have some kind of conscience, he was awake and his brain was functioning and his eyes were taking in everything around him.

All he would have known was that the moment he managed to breathe and cry, someone put him into a deep sleep and he lost over a day of his life being under anaesthetic. He woke up to find his body had been cut open and stitched up and his body had to rewire and try and cope with such big changes. Then he found he couldn't breathe properly and was probably feeling some kind of discomfort before he was sedated after getting an infection. Now he wasn't even allowed to be awake in case he was in pain or distress.

If Billy died now, all he would have was two days of being awake and the rest of his short life would consist of being asleep and put through too much for his small body to cope with.

(Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if they had done the right thing because if Billy died now, she knew that they had done this for nothing. They had brought him into the world to die a week later and that was cruel in her eyes. A termination might have been kinder.

"This isn't a right or wrong situation, sweetheart. Abortion would have been easier but that wasn't necessarily right and giving him a chance isn't wrong or cruel. We took the chance and h-he's not been in pain. Everyone's brought into the world to die, this is no different."

Ben reached over and took (Y/n)'s hand in his own but his eyes fell back on his boy once again. They weren't doing a quiz, there was no right answer and no option that was wrong. They were in a situation where there was an easier and possibly kinder option, or a risky option that could give them what they wanted and they had every right to have Billy if they wanted to. They hadn't tortured him or put him through pain because he was sedated so he didn't feel distress, discomfort or any sort of pain. He wouldn't know what was happening and they had tried to give him a chance. In Ben's eyes, whether this worked or not, they had done something good by trying to help their boy.

No one was immortal, every parent had a child knowing that their child was going to die. They knew that their child could live to only five or twenty or fifty or even ninety, but no one lived forever. In Ben's eyes, people were born to die because the moment they were born, each second that ticked by was simply bringing them closer to their death.

It worried Ben sometimes, but in moments like these it helped him to understand. They weren't being cruel by giving Billy a chance because even if he only lived a week, he was still alive and he was just like everyone else.

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

A faint, tight-lipped smile pulled at Ben's lips when his eyes tired but partially rested eyes landed on the nurse who was quietly entering the room. When they found out Billy had sepsis three days ago, they had moved him into a room on his own so they could monitor him better and so both parents could be alone with him.

Ben unravelled one arm from around (Y/n)'s waist so he could press his finger to his lips, watching the nurse nod in understanding to his silent plea.

There was a sofa beneath the window on the other side of the room but it was simply too far from Billy and (Y/n) had refused to move an inch away from him unless she had to use the bathroom or stretch her legs. Other than that she had sat as close as she could get the chair to be next to her boy. So Ben pushed his chair and her chair together, leaning back against his chair with his legs spread out over (Y/n)'s chair. He pulled her so she was laying between his legs and as he had expected, she had fallen asleep soon afterwards due to staying up through the nights to watch over Billy.

Now that she was sleeping, Ben didn't want to wake her unless he really had to. He had grabbed a few hours of sleep himself but he couldn't manage to sleep anymore, his brain was awake and it was fine to sit like this, but not to sleep like this. He had woken with his neck feeling like it was going to snap from resting on the back of the chair.

Ben's tired eyes followed the nurse, watching as she stood on the other side of the incubator to check on Billy. Every few hours someone would come in and check on his progress and tell them that he was much the same with no change and Ben was beginning to feel like that wasn't such a good thing. No change meant that the infection clearly hadn't gone to his heart but it meant it wasn't cleared up and it meant his fever wasn't gone either.

When Ben had sepsis he didn't have a fever like Billy but he had to stay in hospital for two months and he needed another month after that off work to recover. That was only a short while before Hugo was born and it had taken a lot out of Ben and it took him a while to get back to normal. So he knew that Billy wasn't going to have a speedy recovery, but just to know that the infection was gone would be something that showed they weren't at risk of losing him.

"How is he?" Ben pushed himself up a little higher so he was sitting straight, gently moving (Y/n) so she was still leaning against him as he didn't want to wake her up.

His eyes watched his boy who was still in the same position he had been for hours. He only moved when a doctor or nurse checked him over and made sure he had no more rashes or blue patches of skin to make sure the sepsis wasn't getting worse.

"His fever's gone."

Those three little words caused Ben's entire body to shake, especially his head as his eyes locked on the nurse who looked very surprised. Her own hands were shaking as she reached into the incubator and pressed the back of her hand gently against Billy's skin, clearly not trusting the monitors or her eyes like there had been a mistake in the readings. Ben couldn't quite remember how long it had been since the last doctor came in and checked Billy, but he did know that even though his temperature had gone down by two or three degrees, he was still burning up.

"Baby... baby wake up." Ben shook (Y/n)'s shoulder without letting his eyes move away from watching Billy as if he was expecting his youngest boy to suddenly start moving and wake up to show him that he really was okay.

"W-what... what's happened?" (Y/n) shook her head a little to try and wake herself up, her mind instantly snapping into overload as she knew if Ben woke her up then something must have happened.

"His fever's gone, he still has a temperature that's above normal, but he's not in any immediate danger now." The nurse couldn't help the broad smile that took over her face as she felt that Billy wasn't burning to the touch like he had been yesterday when she checked on him. He was still higher than they would like but with his temperature being nowhere near one hundred, it meant that he wasn't in any danger of his cells breaking down or his organs shutting down. He was at a safe temperature and if it kept going down it meant that the infection was clearing up.

"Fuck, me." Ben mumbled quietly as he rubbed his hands over his face, surprised at how badly he was shaking. He couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his face behind his hands at the prospect that Billy wasn't going to be in danger of passing away. They had been at the hospital for three days now and they had been at Billy's bedside because they knew that he was on the brink of passing away. They had been mentally preparing themselves for the moment they were told there was nothing else that could be done for him.

To hear that he was now getting better was a Godsend that Ben would never stop being grateful for.

The nurse grabbed a stethoscope and very gently placed the end under Billy's back to listen to his lungs to see how he was breathing.

"He's breathing much better as well. He still has to get rid of the infection and we'll need to check for any permanent damage, but I think it might be fair to say that you don't have to worry."

Turning herself around so she was facing Ben, (Y/n) brushed away the few tears leaving his eyes before he cupped her face in his trembling hands as he smiled a smile that she hadn't seen for a while. It was the kind of smile she remembered seeing when Ellie called him dad for the first time or when she said yes to marrying him. It was the smile he expressed when she told him she was pregnant with Billy.

"I told you he'd be okay." Ben whispered before he pressed his lips to hers with a sense of urgency. His thumbs brushed over her jaw and cheek as she could feel his tears mingling with her own.

Billy was going to be alright.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Lavender and Daisies

Steve Harrington x Holland!Reader, Max Mayfield x Reader (PLATONIC)

Word Count: 4,183

Warnings: Death, grief, violence, mourning, funerals, angst, crying, swearing

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @thechickvic @moonstruckhargrove @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

You found yourself drawn to the Hawkins Cemetery after the announcement of the Starcourt Mall’s demise.  You’d spent a lot of time there two years prior. Two years ago you knew why you spent so much time around those gravestones. This time, you weren’t sure.

You always made sure to dress appropriately for the stones. Your mother had drilled it into your head, after your Great Aunt Amelia’s funeral almost twelve years ago, that the souls of the dead were offended by any colours other than black, grey, and navy blue. Dark winter tones were the only colours appropriate for the stones. You couldn’t help your bright yellow converse sneakers though; they were your only shoes with flat soles and anything with a heel would sink into the grass, loose dirt, and mud.

You knew how to dress for a funeral. You were a Holland girl.

You lost your baby sister Barb in your junior year. It destroyed you. She was this little dork you’d been trying to protect since the day she was born. You were Irish twins, less than a year apart. Your sister was a miracle baby; your parents were told by several doctors that they wouldn’t be able to have children after you, due to a seemingly botched c-section. When they found out that they were pregnant again so soon after having you, they had to go through with the pregnancy, purely because they might never have another shot at a kid.

Barb was your sweet little geeky sister, with her prissy friends and her homework parties. You still felt guilty about not telling her to skip the party she was going to. Not that Steve Harrington inherently threw dangerous parties, simply that you knew that it wouldn’t be her scene. Not that you thought she’d listen, Barb was a teenager. Teenagers never listen, especially when they had it in their heads that they were right. So you mourned her death hard. You spent every day at her grave site for the first year. Your parents had intended to use their life savings to pay for a private investigator to research her disappearance. And while, at the time you weren’t sure as to whether or not she was even alive, you weren’t comfortable with them selling everything to hire some random guy they found in the penny saver. You moved in with your Aunt Jeanine while your parents lost their minds for awhile, so you could try to keep your mind on your studies. And while living with your aunt and her four kids, all no older than preteens, off a pull out couch in their basement wasn’t easy, you made it work.

You graduated. But you didn’t get into any colleges. And once Barb was discovered dead, covered up by an evil corporation, you were forced to deal with your own issues head on.

Staying in Hawkins and going back to high school was the only way to clean up the mess you’d made of your own life. It meant you could stay close to Barb, which your parents had trouble doing. They were destroyed with grief, you understood why they felt the need to sew their wild oats and try to discover themselves beyond their pain.

The Hawkins Cemetery was like a second home to you now. You found yourself wandering around even when you felt well enough to not have to visit Barb every day. You found yourself wondering about the people who’d been buried there for years. You did your best to mourn them properly, dressed in your darks and keeping quiet. You tried to avoid funerals whenever you could.

Today, you ran into one.

Neil Hargrove didn’t get around to planning his son’s funeral until almost August. He’d demanded that his wife do it for him, but Susan was having none of it. It wasn’t as if she hated Billy, but she hardly knew him, he’d only been her stepson for two years and he hadn’t exactly let her into his world. Neil was forced to do it himself. So he paid for the cheapest funeral possible. And he refused to call his ex-wife, Emily; Susan had to call her herself, the one thing she did to help plan the thing.

The day of Billy’s funeral was hellish hot, he probably would’ve loved it. The sun beat down on the scattered, small group like migraine, sending sweat pooling down each and every mourner’s back and making their heads pound painfully. You found yourself wandering cautiously into the mix, fitting in just enough and just intrigued by the scene enough to stay. You and Billy weren’t friends, you wouldn’t even say that you liked the guy, but you felt bad for his family over what had happened.

Neil Hargrove wiped his forehead and moustache with his white handkerchief, shoving it violently into his pocket. His eyes were dry as the pastor spoke over the coffin, a small wreath of roses on its lid. Susan stood at his side, trying to whimper quietly, her green eyes misty and her thin red lip quivering slightly. Her hand was squeezed tight in her daughter Max’s, whose free hand was wrapped around the end of a tight red braid. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her whole face red and splotchy. You’d guess that she’d been crying for over an hour and by the heavy purple bags under her eyes, she hadn’t much sleep the night before.

You knew that look. You’d been in her shoes. You felt like you were kindred sisters.

You recognized the rest of her little group, all in various stages of grieving. Mike Wheeler looked bored, his fists shoved into the pockets of his black dress pants. Lucas Sinclair had his arm wrapped around Max’s shoulders, watching her cautiously. Dustin Henderson and Will Byers seemed deeply uncomfortable, although Will seemed a bit more saddened than his friend. There was a girl with them who you didn’t recognize who was holding Will’s hand and leaning on his shoulder, tears brimming in her eyes.

Then there was Steve Harrington.

He made about as much sense being there as you did.

You understood why those kids were there, they had to be friends of Max, but Steve was an outlier. He wasn’t friends with Billy, hell they were enemies the second he sauntered into the parking lot of Hawkins High. You heard the stories about Billy beating the crap out of Steve and saw the evidence yourself. Why on earth would that boy show up here, in a suit, to stand in the burning heat with people who either don’t know him or don’t like him? You didn’t understand.

But his big brown eyes caught yours and you found yourself offering a shy, small smile, which he returned. The pastor signal for the group to join in the hymn listed in the funeral program and you found yourself slinking further into the back as the small, cracked voices of the mourners rang out in prayer, following along with the pastor. You hummed to the rhythm of their words, keeping your head down. Funerals always eventually became about god, even the concept of resting easy eluded to some sort of afterlife and almighty creator above. You didn’t exactly adore the concept of god, but it wasn’t something that you outright decried. You understood why religion was a fixture in society and you didn’t want anyone to feel lost or aimless. You understood that feeling tenfold.

When the hymn ended, you looked back to the children, who now huddled around little Max. The bored looking one, Mike, was whispering in her ear and her broken expression shifted slightly from sadness to anger as her brown eyes met yours.

The pastor finished his sermon and the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the ground. Some members of the group chose to throw handfuls of dirt onto the coffin. Susan tried to bring Max over to do so, but she refused. A bright blonde woman, whom you could only assume to be Billy’s mother, cried softly as she threw two handfuls onto the coffin, standing over it with this broken expression you could only match to your mothers just two years prior.

You didn’t add any yourself. Neither did Steve. The pastor announced that there would be refreshments at the nearby funeral home and most of the masses headed off behind the pastor. Susan again tried to egg Max on towards the funeral home, but she held back with her friends. You took one last look at the gravestone, noting the inscription “William Calvin Hargrove: Son, Brother, Friend; Mortui Vivos Docent”

Mortui Vivos Docent-The dead teach the living. The quote was on enough headstones to draw your attention and force you to learn its meaning. You wondered sarcastically what they expected to learn from his death. Just like that, he was another soon to be forgotten member of the Hawkins dead. Just four rows from Barb.

You turned on your heel, letting out a soft sigh through your nose, planning to return to your aunt’s house. You had promised to help her embroider cushions for your Cousin Sarah’s upcoming baby shower.

“Hey!” a loud, angry voice called after you and you turned back to meet the eye of Max Mayfield, whose freckled arms were crossed tightly over the front of her black button down blouse, the cardigan she’d had on for the ceremony already tied around her waist and her gaze stern.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, huh? This is a private burial.” She snapped angrily.

You simply shrugged “I’m sorry. I just wanted to pay my respects. I’ll go now.” You replied, trying again to head again, but the sound of angry footsteps following behind you.

“Who do you think you are? Barging in while my family grieves! This is a private occasion.” Max called after you.

“Max, stop it...” Lucas said softly and the footsteps stopped for a second. You turned to look at the group again. Lucas had grabbed her arm, tugging her away from you. The rest were huddled together, watching in slight horror. Max was seething. You guessed that they’d never seen her that angry before, or at least not in a very long time.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it was a private affair. I wouldn’t have intruded if I had known. I’m truly sorry for disturbing you.” You said slowly, keeping your gaze on hers as she tried to rip her arm out of Lucas’s grasp.

“What kind of funerals are public?!?” Max turned her attention to Lucas, her voice pooling with exasperation and disbelief.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you turned away heading towards the oldest plot of the cemetery, hoping to sit on the bench surrounded by lavender and daisies. “You’d be surprised...” you muttered, pulling the creamsicle coloured scrunchie off your wrist and pulling your hair up.

Something hard hit you in the back of the head. Several screams rang out as you stumbled forward from the sheer shock of the hit. It wasn’t a very hard hit, although it did sting.

“Max, what the fuck?” you heard a voice call as you turned to grab whatever had hit you. A black ballet flat. And then, suddenly, the other shoe and a foot clad in black tights were in your eye line. You stood up fast as a red fury came at you, tiny fists hitting your arms and shoulders and stomach. She was almost as tall as you and yet she was fighting like a small child. You let her land every blow as her friends and Steve came running after her, all screaming for her to stop.

“He was my brother...” you heard her mutter angrily over and over again, tears streaming fast down her cheeks, her face growing exponentially redder.

You wound your arms under her arms, pulling her to your chest tightly. “I know.” You said firmly as she fought against you “I know. I understand.” It took a couple moments, but eventually she stopped fighting, her head coming to your chest as a loud sob wracked through her tiny body, making her shake and lose her balance, pulling you down with her onto the grass. Your hand came down first, to soften the blow and once you hit the ground, it wrapped around her, rubbing her back softly. Your other hand came to her hair, petting it gently as her tears soaked into your shoulder.

You turned to the boys “Can one of you go and get her a cup of water? And maybe something to eat?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb her crying. Lucas nodded turning and jogging towards the funeral home. Mike grabbed the other girl’s hand and led her towards the funeral home. Dustin attempted to get Will to follow, but he simply sat on the grass next to Max’s feet, pulling his knees to his chest. Steve followed suit, sitting next to you.

“I know how you feel, its okay...” you muttered into her hair “Let it out, Max...” Max nodded softly into your shoulder. It took her a few tries, but eventually she sat up on her own and you let her go, letting your hands fall in between the two of you.

She sniffled loudly, wiping her nose again, her eyes still brimmed with tears and red. “How...how you know h-how I even f-feel?” she hiccupped between her syllables. She was starting to hyperventilate, but you saw as she tried to regulate her own breathing.

You lowered your gaze, focusing on the grass. Talking about was still hard. You focused on twisting your fingers into the grass, crossing your legs under you. “I lost my sister, Barb, just a couple years ago.” You said simply. Realization washed over the two, but you knew Steve recognized you.

None of the little party went to the funeral, but you’d seen them at the reception with Joyce Byers when you finally made it back to your parent’s home. You guessed that they didn’t know that you were her sister until that moment.

“I know how you feel about all of this: the pain of losing him, the regret, the anger at the world and at me. I felt the same thing with my sister.” You added, finally able to look up again.

Max crossed her arms over her chest, looking away towards the road less than ten feet away. “Y-you don’t k-know how I f-feel about y-you.” She replied bitterly

“Oh I do,” you chuckled to yourself “When I saw Steve at my sister’s funeral, I wanted to kill him.”

Max raised an eyebrow, which you took as your cue to keep going. “Steve wasn’t even friends with Barb, he didn’t even know her. And it was his stupid party that she went missing, how she got hurt by all that laboratory shit. When I saw him with all those people that loved her, I wanted to destroy him. As soon as the funeral was over, I went right over to him and started screaming at him. He let me try to beat the shit out of him.”

Steve chuckled softly at the memory. In truth, he only went to the funeral because he felt guilty. Guilty that it was at his house, guilty that he’d left her outside, guilty that he didn’t do anything to help her, that he didn’t even notice she’d disappeared until the police started asking him questions. He went to apologize to her, he couldn’t apologize to your parents, they wouldn’t let him. Instead, he apologized to you. He let you yell at him and hit him and cry into his shoulder and wear his jacket when you started to shiver from the cold.

And after that day, he started to check up on you. Little things at first, he knew that you wandered around here so he’d check to make sure that your car came and went. Sometimes he’d drive past your aunt’s house, because it was on his way home anyway, to make sure the car was in the driveway. When he saw you in school, he’d sometimes go over to you to make small talk. He’d eat lunch with you once Tommy and Carol ditched him to hang out with...well with Billy. It was hard to be bitter about that now. You were genuinely one of his only friends.

“I really am sorry for disturbing your mourning, Max. I really didn’t mean to.” Your words pulled Steve out of his memories and his gaze to you. It was a stark contrast to the last time he’d seen you here. Your skin was warm and rosy, your eyes clear and bright, your smile was...heart stopping. You looked so alive, it was beautiful to behold. When he first saw you, you looked so pale and fragile, small in your heavy black dress. But now you sat tall and you smiled like it didn’t hurt anymore. You were fully here, live in Technicolor, and so very alive. Steve couldn’t stop staring at you.

Max nodded softly “Its okay...” she said, looking to Will, who squeezed her shoulder. “C-can I ask you something?”

You smiled “Sure.”

“Does it get any easier?” Max looked so vulnerable, her eyes going wide, she looked almost as she was begging for an answer.

You took her hand gently, your eyes closing as you let out a small sigh through your nose. “It will in time.” You promised “But it won’t ever be okay.”

Max’s gaze dropped away and you squeezed her hand gently “I don’t mean that you won’t be okay, you will be just fine. I mean that what happened to Billy isn’t okay and it won’t be. But you will get some peace one day. It will just take some time, you have to heal.”

Lucas came running up, water from the paper he sported in hand sloshing with his steps. Dustin was behind, carrying a very full napkin. He stopped in front of Max, handing her the drink nervously. You let go of her hand and nodded for her to take the cup.

“We didn’t know what kind you’d like, so we just grabbed one of each.” He plopped down next to her on the grass, opening the napkin to reveal at least five cookies, all different flavours.

You stood up, brushing grass off your jeans “You gonna be alright, Max?” you asked. Max clutched the cup with both hands, taking small sips. She nodded. You smiled “Alright, then eat till you’re sick. Funeral cookies are the best cookies. And if you need anything, ever, you give me a call, okay? Anytime.”

As the kids picked at the cookies, you headed away from the scene. You felt good that you were able to help that little girl in any way you could. But sitting in the muggy feeling of sadness was exhausting and you really needed to breathe in air that wasn’t salty with tears.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Steve called after you and you slowed down, letting him catch up with you. He was wearing the same suit that he did to Barb’s funeral, you reckoned. He looked handsome in it. His hair was deflating and falling into his face, the summer heat making his sweat wash the hairspray out of his locks.

“What you did for Max, that was really cool.” He said, slightly out of breath. You both silently blamed the heat.

You shrugged “It’s the kind of stuff I’d wanted to hear when I was in her situation.” You arrived at your bench, the smell of lavender taking over your senses. You sat down on the bench, smiling at the peeling white paint and the daisies pooling around the tall grass, untouched and forgotten in the corner of the cemetery.

Steve sat down next to you tentatively “So, how are you feeling?” he asked, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket. You knew what he meant; funerals weren’t exactly your comfort zone. You’d confessed to him your deep fear of funerals now, of freaking out and embarrassing yourself. Of having a panic attack and making it about you.

“I’m okay,” you breathed out as his arm came around the back of the bench. You let out a heavy “I really shouldn’t have wandered over there, it wasn’t my place, but I couldn’t help it. I just felt...drawn to it. It was weird.”

“But you did okay. You didn’t freak out, right?” Steve offered with a smile. You nodded, looking down.

“I mean, what you did for Max...it was amazing. She’s been unmovable for weeks. If she’s not crying, she angry. No one’s been able to help. But you calmed her down. It was incredible!” Steve said, his gaze focusing on a faded gravestone for someone named Josephine Bray. “I wish I had been able to do that for you...” he added softly.

You turned to look at him, bewildered “What are you talking about? That’s exactly what you did for me!” you cried. Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re joking right? You told me all about your grandfather’s funeral and how much it hurt.”

“That was stupid shit...” Steve replied, leaning back to stare up at the bright blue sky. It was too beautiful a day for a funeral.

“No it wasn’t!” you slapped him in her chest, startling him into looking at you “Steve, you really helped me. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone, that I’d feel better eventually. You really helped me that day. I never thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to thank me that all. I mean it was my fault that your sister...” Steve trailed off, not wanted to finish the sentence.

“No it’s not.” You said. Steve shook his head and you repeated yourself firmly “Steve, no it’s not. It’s not your fault. It’s that terrible labs fucking fault. You didn’t know that she would get hurt. You didn’t do shit.”

“I could’ve made her stay inside.” Steve replied bitterly.

“And have her listen to you and Wheeler bone? You know she wouldn’t have gone for that!” you shot. That made Steve laugh against his better judgement. The image of poor Barb sitting in his living room, listening to the sound of his mattress squeak above her was so sad and cringe worthy.

“Okay, that’s fair.” He sighed “But I still could’ve done something...”

“Yeah, you probably could’ve. But the labs could’ve been safer in their disposal of waste or just not done those experiments. And Barb could’ve not gone to your house that night. There are a million variables that could be changed, but we aren’t in charge of any of them.”

You grabbed Steve’s free hand in yours. He looked down at you, a little surprised. “You can’t hold onto your guilt anymore. It’s not your fault. No one blames you.” You smiled up, his big brown eyes finally meeting yours. He swallowed, but nodded, squeezing your hand softly. It felt nice to have your hand in his, it was comforting.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked, pulling away from your gaze to look over the withering stones, growing over with grass and weeds.

“I got lost in here once, found old Jo and this little bench. Sometimes I come in here to read or think when it’s too loud at my aunt’s. It’s like it’s in its own world.” You explained softly.

“You still spend a lot of time here?” Steve asked, a little concerned with the idea of you still wandering around this place.

You sighed “I probably shouldn’t be. It’s just a bad habit now.” You replied, your face heating up just a bit. You knew that Steve had been looking out for you and he knew about your haunting of the funeral. You knew you shouldn’t be hanging around here anymore. It had become a force of habit, but you had to move on.

“You know, anytime your house gets too hectic, you can just come to mine. It’s usually pretty quiet. And I won’t like bug you or anything.” Steve offered shyly. “I mean, if you want to! I know that with your sister it might not be cool but I thought-”

Your hand came to his cheek, silencing him instantly. “Thank you, Steve.” You whispered, kissing him softly. Steve’s heart stopped in his chest, the world coming to a standstill. Your lips barely ghosted over his and you pulled back just as fast. You were far too scared to do anything more, to force yourself on him.

Steve didn’t pull you back, he didn’t want to scare you off. Instead, he let his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly. You didn’t know if you’d ever be in this position again, so you savoured it wholeheartedly. It was too beautiful a day to not enjoy it at least a little, with a pretty boy holding your hand.  

[burdenofthebuster]

@featherskyhero is an enabler and their headcanon is beautiful. Here’s a quick thing where Cloud tells Denzel about Zack, and finally takes care of the Buster Sword.

It started with a simple enough question. Denzel wanted to know how to clean a sword properly, since Cloud mentioned it was an important part of being a good swordsman during their last lesson. He broke down his fusion sword, giving one of the smallest and lightest blades to Denzel to practice on, while showing him what to do with the main blade. They worked together quietly, Denzel copying Cloud's motions as closely as he could and carefully listening to his directions.

The next question wasn't nearly as simple. 

"How come you don't do this with your other sword?" 

Cloud hummed, not fully understanding the question. "What other sword?" 

"The one on the cliff." His voice held no malice, no judgment, but it turned Cloud's blood to ice. "Tifa told me you go to visit it a lot, she said it's the sword you used when you saved the world. So why don't you take care of that one, too?"

How did he even begin to explain what that sword meant to him? That sometimes just looking at it took everything out of him, got him so lost in his thoughts for hours that it was a struggle to bring himself back to the present. That he couldn't bare to touch it for fear of the memories it brought to the forefront of his mind. He had barely been able to talk about Zack to the members of Avalanche when explaining what happened to him, and that had been when it was necessary for him to do so. But the kids had always been easier to talk to. Something about them - their innocence, maybe, or the way they looked up to him - just made the words come out smoother. 

"The Buster Sword." He said, recalling the name Zack had told him multiple times. "It's a monument right now." Denzel only continued to look at him expectantly, silently letting Cloud know that wasn't enough of an answer. 

Which… he was right. Cloud had left the sword on the cliff where Zack died as a way to remember him, but was it honoring his memory to leave it to rust? "I should clean it up." It felt right to say, and Cloud turned to give Dezel a soft smile. "You wanna help?" After all, who knows how long he'd have left it sitting out there without this unintentional nudge. 

A few hours later found them back in the same spot, perched on crates in the garage with all of the materials needed to get the sword back into perfect condition. "This looks like it'll take a while." Denzel said, a slight whine in his voice. Cloud gave a small laugh and reached over to ruffle his hair. 

"Do you want to hear how I got it? It'll make the time pass faster." He isn't sure what made him offer. He never thought this would be a story he'd share with anyone, especially so willingly. And yet, he wanted to. Zack asked him to be his living legacy. Eventually Cloud would join him in the lifestream, but Zack’s legacy didn't have to die with him. What better way to honor him than to keep his story, his sacrifice, alive for as long as possible? 

"When I was fourteen I joined Shinra's army. The infantry, not Soldier. I'd only been around for a few months when I met this guy. Zack Fair." Cloud started scrubbing at the rust on the sword, smiling softly as he recalled the memory. "I was expecting this stuck up badass, someone who had earned the position of Second Class and wanted to make sure everyone knew it. But he was just… a regular guy. Loud, excitable… kind of a dork." 

After that, the words just wouldn't stop. Denzel sat on the edge of his seat, completely enraptured as Cloud talked more than he had in the last month. Maybe the last couple. He sung Zack's praises, poked fun at his flaws, and spoke about every detail he could remember. There were still a lot of gaps in his memory, and some parts he still wasn't entirely sure if they were real or part of his elaborate illusion, but he mentioned them all the same. 

Hours went by, with Cloud taking breaks in his story only to explain the next step in the restoration process to Denzel. The boy, seeming to understand just how important this story was to Cloud, didn't interrupt. It was only as he neared the end that Cloud wondered how much he should cut back. Denzel and Marlene both had been told about what Sephiroth had done and how Cloud had killed him the first time after Nibelheim burned. But they ignored his captivity before. This time, Cloud mentioned it. Not in any sort of detail, of course. He didn't want to scar Denzel. Just impress the sort of situation Zack had lived through, what he saved Cloud from. When he mentioned the break out and the nine month run, Cloud chose to focus mainly on Zack's efforts. How caring he was, how much he went through for Cloud’s sake, how brave and strong he was. How he never gave up on Cloud, until the very end. 

"He stood his ground against an entire army. Shinra sent what seemed like half their remaining forces. Made it so that the last few stragglers left instead of coming for me, because he just took everyone else down. It was…" Cloud trailed off. Impressive wasn't the right word, though it was true. Tragic was much better. Terrifying. 

Heartbreaking. 

"I dunno why it happened then, but I finally came around long enough to walk over to him. Talk with him one last time. That's when he gave me his sword." Cloud held the blade, now fully cleared of rust, polished and oiled to a perfect shine, aloft in a way he'd often seen Zack hold it up. "He asked me to be his living legacy. I promised to live my life for both of us. Carrying on his honor and dreams. He gave his life protecting mine, because he was a true hero. Not the sort who does it for fame or power, but who does something because it's right. To help others." Cloud brought the sword close, pressing his forehead to the flat side. He thinks, maybe, he gets why Zack sought comfort in the blade, now. He didn't understand it at the time. But now that it's been passed to him, as it had been passed to Zack… 

Yeah. It was a connection. He understood now. Zack deserved better than a rusting memorial at the place of his death. The Buster Sword, now shined back to the condition it'd been whenever he saw Zack wearing it, would go someplace Zack lived. "Let's take this to the church."

When Cloud lowered the sword, Denzel was staring up at him with an open expression of awe. "Hey Cloud? Would you be offended if I said I wanted to be just like Zack? I wanna be like you too, still! But…" Cloud cut him off by reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

"Nah, I think he'd be happy to hear that he’s still inspiring others. But Denzel, you don't have to be like him. Be yourself. Just remember your honor and dreams, never give up on them. The way I see it… I'm me, but I'm trying to be the me that Zack would be proud of. You can do that, too." Denzel beamed up at Cloud.

"Yeah! I can do that! Just you wait, Cloud. Some day I'm gonna make him and you proud of me!" After his declaration, Denzel took off, running out of the garage and off to who knows where. Cloud chuckled as he left, fondly shaking his head. 

"I already am proud of you, kid." He blinked and his expression faded into one of surprise as a sudden feeling warmth spread through him. It felt almost as if a broad back was pressed against his own. Cloud let out a soft hum, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "I'll live out both our lives. But yours deserves to keep going, Zack. Maybe you’ll become a legend.” He smiled at the ceiling, his eyes still closed. “Yeah. That’s what a hero like you deserves.”