#its probably not gonna get better even when all the old mean nurses retire :))))

[fukever]

Changing from a humanities degree (especially from a language degree) to a science degree really makes you realise how homophobic the average czech youth really is huh 🤡

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so....  also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x 

[previous part] [part 1] 

warnings:  hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :) 

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

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother. 

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged. 

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked. 

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital. 

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket. 

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time. 

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver. 

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert. 

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle. 

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something. 

The feeling  was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it. 

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly. 

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar. 

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too? 

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain. 

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness. 

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes. 

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a  weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed. 

Her hospital bed. 

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom. 

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure. 

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby. 

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible. 

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost. 

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement. 

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.  

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission. 

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.  

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room. 

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman. 

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling. 

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days. 

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed  greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting. 

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through. 

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce. 

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him. 

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly. 

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard. 

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little. 

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?” 

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape. 

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?” 

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his. 

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains. 

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?”  Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas. 

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence. 

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too. 

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too. 

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other. 

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream. 

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted,  he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together. 

~~~~

 I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51 

[muffinlance]

Ok so Kindling!AU Zuko probably would be pretty useless as a firebender right? I mean by the time he got banished he was probably like... instinctively afraid of fire, even his own (especially his own if Ozai trained him heh) Does this mean he pretty much stopped firebending? Or does he like... not care how afraid and even more burned he gets, he's gonna firebend because he won't dishonor himself even further and also like surely that's what his father would want from him? ;))))

No one called them Kindling, officially. The word never appeared on any written document, any report. It got censored out of letters home.

Unofficially, everyone called them that.

In the 41st Division, their unit was officially dubbed the 41st Fire Starters. Like all Kindling units, they were kept largely to camp outside of active duty. For better supervision in their training, of course. Their talents weren't to be wasted on scout patrols or minor scuffles. Their barracks were in the middle of everything, the non-bender units and command posts and sentries standing between them and the outside world. For their own protection, of course.

Not firebending was not an option. Not even for their newest recruit, the wobbly kid who was only going to have half a face once those bandages came off. Kuzon of Nara got a peek when he was in the hospital tents getting his hands rebandaged. He wasn't very good at bending. The kid must be worse, with a face like that. The kid was young. So was Kuzon.

The average life expectancy for Kindling in the field was three years. One of those was their training year.

The 41st Division's training year was ending soon. The new kid must have ticked someone off, to get assigned here just as they got their first marching orders.

(The new kid looked a hell of a lot like Prince Zuko, may he rest in peace. It was a training accident that claimed the young prince's life. Of course.)

(Under those bandages, the new kid's raw burn was the size and shape of a grown man's fist. If that fist was on fire. No one said anything about this. Of course.)

Kuzon didn't gossip about what he saw. He told everyone, but that wasn't the same as gossip.

"Hey, kid," he said in the dark of the barracks. (It was after light's out, and they'd been locked inside for their own good, of course.) "We're going to take care of you, okay? Wherever you came from, that's over now. They don't... they don't hurt us, here."

Kuzon had some scars too. Not from bending; his mum wasn't a bender. His mum complained that if she had to raise a piece of Kindling for the military to burn, the least they could do was pay to feed him. His mum had three other non-bender kids to look out for. It had to be hard raising a kid you knew you couldn't love.

"Not on purpose," Kuzon added, into the silence. The kid curled up tighter on his bunk. Maybe he even got some sleep.

Officially, the kid's name was Li. The kid was real slow about responding to that.

Unofficially, they called him Prince.

"Just a nickname, Sarge," Kuzon smiled at their squad leader. "Harmless, right?"

The Sarge let out a breath, and then got back to yelling them through their drills.

The kid had been cleared for training (too soon).

The kid went through water like he was running a fever (he was).

The kid came with them all to the hospital tent afterwards, and fell asleep sitting up while they chattered around him. While the healers wrapped their new burns, and checked their old. Kuzon nudged him awake before the nurse could set a hand on him. Prince did not like waking up to unfamiliar faces. Kuzon wasn't exactly familiar, but he was better than nothing.

"Where are you hurt?" the nurse asked. Clinical, perfunctory. It must be hard, helping patients who would never really heal.

"Just my face," Prince said.

The nurse's lips turned down. "I mean new injuries."

"Nowhere," the kid said, and he sounded so puzzled about it. Like after a full day of training, that was normal.

(Prince Zuko was said to be a crap bender. Such a tragic death. If only he'd been born with the talent of the rest of Sozin's line, that innate control that had let them ascend to leadership, their bending blessed by Agni himself.)

(A lot of the kid's scars had the wrong edges to them, if you knew what to look for. Accidents were accidents: they flared, they dotted little ember-trails, they didn't stop clean like a hand wrapped around a forearm.)

(Kindling were allowed to wear short sleeves during training. Encouraged, even, for their quartermaster's sanity. The kid never did. He barely ever lit those trailing edges on fire, either.)

"You never have to go back," Kuzon said, into the darkness between their bunks. "I know this isn't a great life, but it's better, right?"

"...I miss home," the kid whispered back.

"Yeah," Kuzon said. "Me too."

You could miss things even when they were terrible for you.

The Sarge had been working them extra hard since their deployment orders came. He didn't need to remind them that the only prisoners the Earth Kingdom ever took were non-benders. Kindling were dangerous enough to themselves.

The non-bending units were getting worked just as hard. The officers all looked like they'd swallowed lemon-kumquats. They stopped sometimes, and watched the Kindling squad at training. Watched Prince. Left, after a good long look, their expressions unreadable.

Now that the kid's fever had broken (now that he almost-trusted that they wouldn't lay a hand on him, with fire or not), he'd taken to yelling at their sloppy bending almost as loud as the Sarge. The Sarge allowed it. The Sarge might have been in love.

The kid's new nickname was Sergeant. Sergeant Prince, Sir Yes Sir, if they were being formal.

"I hate you all," the kid said, and only growled when they ruffled his chick-fuzz hair. (Their entire unit might have been in love.)

Deployment day. Camp was packed up, and distributed largely to the wagons and the backs of the non-benders. Couldn't really trust the Kindling not to light something vital on fire, after all.

"You've got your full three years until retirement," Kuzon tried to joke. (It wasn't a joke.) "We've already used one of ours up. Remember that, okay? You're the one who's going to be fine. Statistically speaking."

The kid's scowl was really good, with that scar.

They reached their new camp site, on the wrong side of the lines. The Kindling unit took one of its small pleasures in life: heckling the non-benders as they set up.

"You could help."

"With our delicate constitutions?" Kuzon gasped, a hand over his heart. The fake swooning was probably unnecessary, but it made Sergeant Prince snort. Which was pretty much rolling in the dirt laughing, from anyone else.

None of the officers were laughing. Or shouting more than necessary. The camp was reassembled to military standard, and not a polished-boot more. It felt hollow, somehow.

Their first fight made it pretty clear why. It was also their last fight, after all.

The kid was alive, the last Kuzon saw. They'd done that much right. Without a locked bunk room or checkpoints or sentries watching inside the camp as much as out, he could leave. Run. They made him run, scared him with fire when he wouldn't, gave him a few more non-accidental scars. They wouldn't look any different then the rest of the kid's collection, but they were.

Where would be go? He was as obvious as firebenders got. The Earth Kingdom would kill him on sight; he'd have to go back to the military. That was the real trap. Not the locks or the guards. There was no place else that let Kindling burn, even for the short time they had.

But the kid was alive. That wasn't nothing.

Kuzon hissed in pain when the soldiers flipped him over. They weren't trying to be rough about it, but they weren't trying for gentle, either. Just checking the bodies.

It hurt too much to hold his breath, so playing dead had never been an option. He just kept breathing in quick tight breaths, and gave the guys in green his best smile. More or less.

"You a bender?" one of them asked.

Didn't really seem much point in answering, all things considered.

The other one lifted Kuzon's arm--stopped lifting when Kuzon couldn't help the noise that brought out of him--and rolled up his sleeve.

Rough burn scars, and yesterday's bandages. Yeah, he was a bender. The guy's face twisted in disgust, but the way he set Kuzon's arm back down was almost gentle.

"They're all so young," the guy said.

"Yeah," his partner said. Which was about the only thing a man could say, when everyone knew the truth didn't change anything.

Kuzon of Nara didn't see much after that.

[yikesharringrove]

So I have this theory that Steve and billy would take a long time to get to each other. They both have so much damage. They know they would be amazing but they also know they aren’t ready yet. So they go with their separate ways. They grow up, they get better. 10 years later they are both back home for a wedding (let’s say Dustin/Erica because I personally think they would be awesome. She would run his life and he would thank her for it) And S/B realize they are ready now. The timing is perfect

Read on Ao3.

“It looks good, buddy.”

Steve was sitting bored in the leather armchair. His hand was propping his chin as he stared at Dustin. He had tried out 18 suits and Steve was tired.

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t think I like the blue.” It was his sixth navy suit. Steve wanted to bash his head in.

“I still maintain I like the first one.” Dustin took another look in the mirror before nodding.

“I’ll put the first one back on.” Steve groaned at the ceiling.

Steve was Dustin’s Best Man. They had kept in close contact even as Steve moved to Chicago, worked entry-level jobs until he went to college, studied, and became a special education teacher.

Dustin had recently graduated from MIT, was living in Indianapolis with Erica. He worked at an engineering lab, was designing already. Steve was very proud. The past few months he had driven to Indy every Friday and staying through the weekend, helping him with plans, the registry, and addressing invitations. He nearly shit when he wrote Billy Hargrove’s name and address.

“Okay, I think this is the one.” Dustin was back in the first one. Steve wanted to hit his head against the wall until he fucking died.

  “Okay, so we’ve got me and your mom, and the Sinclairs, and Marnie, and Robin at Table 1. Table 2 is El and Mike and Will and Seth and Reggie and Max and Angie and Lucas, which, shouldn’t he sit at table one? Family and that. Table 3 is Nancy and Jonathan and Mrs. Byers and Hopper and-” Steve choked on the next name. “Billy? Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Dustin looked up from the huge board they had been using to make the seating chart.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. You know he’s the love of my fucking life.” Steve was gawking at Dustin who rolled his eyes.

"He's not. You've just been gross and hung up on him for ten years, Steve. That's lame."

"We could've had something! We were getting close and I kept-"

"You were getting closer and you kept feeling electricity and then he died and then he was fine and then he ran away to California I know, Steve." Steve felt his face heat up He looked back at the seating chart. "Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting." He was totally pouting. "It's just, I haven't seen him in ten years. It's gonna be, what if he's moved on."

"He's not bringing a plus one."

"Maybe they couldn't come." Dustin rolled his eyes.

"Just fucking talk to him when you see him. Don't know why it has to be such a big deal."

"I can't talk to him, Dustin. what would I say?"

"Start with hi, Billy. And just see where it takes you."

"I just, it's been a while since I've dated and-"

"But it's time you moved on from Taylor. I told you that guys was bad news, and lo and fucking behold, he ends up sucking." Steve shifted uncomfortably. That relationship had ended over three years ago, ended with Steve spending two months on Robin's couch. He was still in therapy over it. 

"Yeah, I know." Steve was talking to his arms, folding tightly over his chest.

"Buddy, I'm not trying to be an ass. Just saying. You're doing much better after that. And Max says Billy's really good. That he's got his life on track and is happy."

"Then he probably has someone. And he might not even be into guys!"

"Okay, then get over your lame self, and be his friend." Steve huffed. "But whatever you do, just help me finish this fucking seating chart."

Steve was fucking running.

He had been in charge of the rings, and he had, misplaced them.

Because of course he fucking did. Of course, he held onto them for weeks only to lose them on the day.

He was sweating through his white shirt in the Hawkins heat. Running from room to room in the upstairs of the old house. His parents kept the Hawkins house, just in case they were ever passing through. Steve doesn't think they've spent more than three hours in it since he was nineteen, but it gave him a free place to crash whenever he was in town.

He was tearing through rooms, anywhere he could've been these past few hours. He knows he had the rings when he put on his shirt, had them in his pocket when he realized he needed cufflinks.

He flew downstairs, rummaging through the drawer in his father's side of the bathroom, finding the rings exactly where he had stolen the cufflinks from. They were thin, gold bands. Erica's had a small diamond set into it. They were engraved on the inside, quotes for Star Wars, Dustin's holding Princess Leia's I love you, Erica's with Han Solo's I know. Steve had made fun of them endlessly when he had picked them up from the jeweler's.

"Steve, you're a fucking idiot and also a genius." He scrambled to his car, driving well over the speed limit to the venue, a historic house in the old part of Hawkins. It was grand and beautiful and much cooler than the summer air outside. Steve was so focused on delivering the rings he didn't notice the Camaro sitting out front, still in its pristine condition. He opened doors at random, getting screamed at by Erica's Maid of Honor, Marnie, when he burst into the wrong room. Marnie fucking hated Steve, and he didn't really know why. Apparently it had something to do with the engagement party. But, he got blackout fucking drunk at that thing, so he had no idea what she was so pissed about.

Well, now she was quite obviously pissed that he had slammed open the door to find her and Erica in robes, getting their makeup done. She threw a shoe at his head.

He was fucking sprinting down a hallway when he crashed right into a fucking wall, solid and steady. He was knocked back on his ass,

"Oh shit, sorry!" He looked up, finding Billy Hargrove staring down at him. "Steve fucking Harrington. As I live and breathe." Billy's hair was long, was wild and big. He was wearing a well-fitting suit, looked thick and muscled, more than he had in high school. Steve's mouth went fucking dry. Billy had his shirt unbuttoned to the bottom of his sternum, showing off a large chest piece, gorgeous flowers weaving around and through the scar on his chest. Steve could see it was healed, but still raised, pink and shiny in a few areas, the skin pulled and puckered where Billy had been stitched back together.

Billy extended a hand, a scarred tattooed hand, and heaved Steve off the floor.

"Hi, Billy." Billy grinned at him. It was softer than he remembered. "You look good."

"You seen yourself? You're still as pretty as I remember." Steve fucking giggled like a fucking schoolgirl. He had let his hair grow out some since high school. Some of the kids liked his long hair.

"What have you, what have you been up to?" Steve was overly aware of his arms. Was trying to find a way to hold himself that didn't look stupid.

"You know, California. USed my government hush money to go to culinary school. I'm a sous-chef now at a restaurant in L.A."

"Oh, wow. Congratulations. You've really, you've come a long way. You look, happy." Steve flushed a little more.

"What are you doin', Pretty Boy?" Steve's heart tripped over itself at the old nickname.

"I'm in Chicago, now. I teach special education at an elementary school. I'm actually, I'm in line to become head of the department when the current one, when she retires." Billy's eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.

"That's so perfect for you. What made you choose special ed?"

"I went to college and learned I'm dyslexic." Billy barked a laugh, one Steve had never heard before, a fucking real one.

"You didn't know? I could've told you that!"

"I mean, I just thought I was fucking stupid, but once I learned what the problem was, the university gave me some resources to help. I was actually in the nursing program, but I kept thinking about how the university helped me so much, that getting a real diagnosis was fucking life-changing, not only for school, but just in the way I thought about myself. I don't want kids to grow up like I did, convinced that their literal disability is just, just stupidity." Steve met Billy's eyes, saw them glow with fondness.

"I'm so happy for you, Steve. I'm so proud you found such an amazing calling, you seem like you've come such a long way." Billy squeezed his upper arm, made Steve melt.

"Thank you, that, that really means a lot to m-"

"Steve! I have been looking for you for hours. Where have you been, Asshole?" Dustin was stomping down the hall

"Doesn't matter. I'm here, I've got the rings, I'm ready to go."

"Did you not have the rings?" Dustin looked like he was going to explode.

"I have them! See!" Steve pulled them out of his pocket, clinking them together. "All engraved with your nerd shit and ready." Billy was watching them, an amused look on his face.

"You are a nightmare and the worst best man in the history of-"

"Can you not be dramatic for one fucking da-"

"I'm allowed to be dramatic today, I'm getting marrie-"

"You're never allowed to be dramatic you little-"

"God, you two really are brothers. You fight like siblings." They both whipped to look at Billy, giving him the exact same pissed off-glare. Billy laughed at them.

"Look, I'll get outta y'all's hair." He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, Stevie. Hope we can catch up more. Congrats, Dustin." He trotted down the hall. Dustin grinned at Steve.

"It's GOOD to see you, STEVIE. He's totally into you. It's exhausting being right all the time." Steve slapped his arm.

 The ceremony was short and sweet.

Steve stood behind Dustin, handed him a tissue when he got all misty, took one for himself when he began tearing up. He noticed Billy sitting a few rows back, noticed how his eyes were always on Steve whenever Steve's trailed over to him. He was smiling softly at him, even fucking winked at Steve, made him go red and look away. Robin noticed something off about him, noticed the way he was flushed, raised her eyebrow for her spot in the first row with Claudia. He shook his head.

The cocktail hour took place outside in the oppressive heat as the large ballroom was altered from ceremony set-up, to dinner and dancing. Steve was overseeing the transition, as Dustin was extremely specific, and someone needed to deal with it.

"You've been weird all day." Robin knocked her shoulder into his. "It finally catching up to you that one of your kids is married?"

"Mike and El have been married for like, years."

"Yeah, but Dustin is your baby." Steve rolled his eyes.

"It really doesn't bug me. I just, Billy's here. We like, talked earlier. And he kept, lookin' at me." She sighed.

"You know what I've always said about Billy. When he was coming into Scoops like, every day and being all flirty. But just, be careful he's been through a lot and, I just don't want the whole Taylor situation to happen again." He shuffled his feet.

"It won't. He seemed, happy. Like he was all bright and was, was laughing, and I've never heard him laugh like that." Her eyes were soft.

"Just be careful, Dingus."

 At dinner, Steve had to give his speech.

He was a wreck, had dropped his cards, and started fucking crying a couple different times. But he got laughs in all the right places, and Claudia had cried loudly so he was feeling pretty alright about it.

He had made a point not to look at Billy the whole time, couldn't fathom looking into his bright eyes as he talked. As dinner winded to a close, the bar opened, and the music began.

Dustin and Erica's first dance was so sweet, they had chosen At Last, the Etta James number that made Steve and Claudia tear up. Lucas took Erica out next, swapping with Mr. Sinclair as Claudia took Dustin.

And then the music devolved into upbeat dance numbers, kept everyone on their feet for hours.

Steve was taking a much-needed break. Nancy had worn him out during Rio, arguably the best Duran Duran dong to ever exist according to Steve.

"You're really tearing it up out there. Nice to see your taste hasn't changed at all." Billy was leaning against the bar, was nursing an amber-colored drink. Steve sipped his pink wine.

"I stand by Duran Duran." Billy laughed, leaning forward enough for Steve to feel his warmth.

"Your speech was nice."

"Thank you! I was so fucking nervous, you have no idea." It was easy talking to Billy. Felt like not a day had passed since they were sitting on the hood of Steve's car at the quarry together, throwing rocks into the water and passing a joint back and forth.

"I wanna know everything about from these past ten years." Steve took in a big breath.

"You pretty much know it all. Took me a good while to get my shit together and get through school, finding something I'm passionate about."

"But there has to be more. A lot can happen in ten years. You dating anyone?" Steve's heart lodged itself in his throat. He blinked down at his wine.

"Not right now. Last one was, uh, it really fucked me up." Billy's hand was so warm when he placed it on Steve's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I asked. You don't gotta explain." Steve blinked, shaking himself.

"Are you, are you with someone?" Billy chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, through the wild curls Steve was obsessed with.

"Nah. Hard to find guys that don't get weirded out by the scars. I've got a whole lotta baggage."

"Sorry, guys?" Billy gave him an odd look.

"Yeah, Harrington. Guys. I'm gay. That a problem?" It was the closest Billy had looked to his old Hawkins self, puffing his chest up.

"No, that's not a problem. Just didn't know is all. I'm, uh, I'm bisexual." Billy's eyebrows shot up.

"No shit?"

"No shit." Billy smirked at him.

"You know I've always had a thing for you." Steve choked on his wine, coughing harshly as Billy laughed, thumping him on the back.

"Don't say that shit to me. I've had the biggest stupidest fucking crush on you since I was seventeen. That summer before everything when to shit, when we were, like, hanging out, I kept thinking something was gonna, was gonna happen." Billy's smile fell.

"I know. I'm sorry, Stevie. I just, I wasn't good back then. I was so fucking angry, about moving to Hawkins, and everything with my dad, and then getting possessed, I wouldn't've been good to you. And you deserve good, Stevie. You wouldn't have grown like you did if you were always trying to take care 'a me."

"Sometimes, the growing hurt, and I, I wish some of it hadn't have happened."

"I know how that feels, Pretty Boy. But the growing, sometimes it has to hurt. Everything that happened to me, everything with that thing, it made me who I am, and for the first time in my whole life, I really like who I am." Steve took a breath.

"You know, I never got the story from you. Why you actually moved to Hawkins. You'd say something different and ridiculous every time I asked." Billy looked down at his drink.

"My dad. He caught me with a boy in my room. He said, he told me living in the midwest would straighten me out. I think he thought either I play straight or I'd get hate crimed."

"I'm sorry, Bill." He smiled at him, just one side of his mouth ticking up.

"Honestly, Pretty Boy. Like I said, everything really happens for a reason. That's what I live by now, because all that horrible shit, it led me here, and I'm okay."

"Good for you, Bill. I really mean that. You've made such a great life for yourself." Billy pressed in closer to him, made Steve's breath catch.

"Thank you, Sweet Thing. That means a lot comin' from you." He leaned even further into Steve's space. "You wanna get outta here? I've got a nice hotel room." Steve felt warmth spread down his spine. He hooked a finger into one of Billy's belt loops.

"You know, I've always loved that car 'a yours. First time I saw you get out of it, kept thinking about getting fucked in that back seat." Billy groaned, his head falling onto Steve's shoulder.

"It's parked right outside." Steve leaned to Billy's ear.

"Race ya."

They ran, giggling like little kids all the way to Billy's vintage car. Billy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before Steve yanked open the door, diving in the back seat.

They were still giggling as they struggled outta their clothes, making out in between items. Steve flopped down once he was undressed, pulling Billy down on top of him, laughing as Billy knocked the wind out of him.

The giggles turned to moans when Billy latched onto his neck, sucking and biting. He finally put his hand in those curls, the other trailing down his back, ghosting over the scars there.

"I love all your tattoos. So gorgeous." Billy pressed kisses down his chest. He stopped at the large scar running from the inside of Steve's collarbone a few inches down his arm.

"What's this from?" Steve stiffened under him. He sat up, brushing some hair off of Steve's forehead.

"It's, it's from a surgery I had."

"What happened?" Steve pushed his hand away from the scar.

"Shattered my collarbone." Steve was sitting up, was tugging his pants back on.

"Shit, Stevie, I'm sorry. I won't, you don't have to talk about it." Steve huffed, flopping back into the seat.

"It's okay. It's just-" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Billy tugged his own slacks back on. "The relationship I told you about. The last one I was in." BIlly's eyes went big. He took Steve's hand.

"Stevie, I'm sorry." Steve shook his head."How long were you two together?"

"A little over four years."

"Holy shit."

"I ended things over three years ago. Packed my shit and left when he was at work. Lived with Robin after that." He crossed his arms over his middle. "I should've known too. There were, there were so many red flags, but I didn't, I never really ever felt loved, and he told me that he loved me, and so I stayed. Through everything."

"Was he your first relationship since Nancy?"

"Like, full relationship. Once I moved to the city, I let myself go wild a little bit, fucked around with a lot of different people. I thought he was it for me, thought he was the one. We moved in together after about six months." Billy placed a hand on Steve's thigh.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I know how you feel. I know how painful it is to live like that."

"I know you do. And I'm, Robin and Dustin really helped me. They helped me find a support group for queer abuse survivors, and, and Robin drove me to therapies, and I'm so much better, but it's, especially the scar, it's a painful reminder." Billy leaned over, pressing a light kiss to the center of it.

"Stevie, I really like you. I'd like to do this properly. I want to take you on a date." Steve looked at him with wide eyes.

"You, really?"

"Yeah, Baby. Been gone on you since I was sixteen years old." Steve took Billy's face between each palm, kissed him softly, smiled into it, into how right it felt, these two broken boys, these two healed men finally finding one another again.

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Avengers in Pandemics

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), og6 Avengers

summary: After months of living during quarantine, someone had to finally snap. But why, much to Steve’s horror, it had to be Tony?

length: 1 406 words

a/n: this fic is a part of my 8th Stony Anniversary and is based on a prompt I understood wrong, but then wanted to write it anyway ;D please keep in mind that this is just fanfiction - it is just a light hearted fic about a serious topic, so if you think it might upset you, feel free to not read. my only intention is to make you smile after reading it. that being said, hope you enjoy the fic, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed!

—————

Avengers in Pandemics

"Okay, I am done."

The words immediately sent off warning signals in Steve's brain. He turned around, and watched Tony, marching into the living room at Avenger's shared floor, face set with a determined and sullen look. Steve feared it would happen and someone would break. His bet was on Thor, though, who since the coronavirus pandemics had started was strictly forbidden to leave the compound, because Thor might claim he was a god, but for most, he was an alien, and coronavirus was new and unknown as it was already, there was no need to mix alien DNA into it. Too much of a risk and Thor was cooped up, banned from leaving the compound, and instead spent his days grimly staring into the window, some sparks of electricity crackling around him from time to time.

Ah, pandemics...

Steve remembered polio outbreaks back from his days. When he woke up to a polio-free world, it was great news, but the 21st century had its traps. Flat-Earthers, parents declining to vaccinate their children, and a new, unknown virus, spreading all over the world. The Avengers team was known as the Earth Mightiest Heroes, but pandemics wasn't a time for heroics. It was a time to put down their armors and give an example. The Avengers' social media has never been fuller. Photos of movie nights, game nights, group training, even domestics things like Thor washing the dishes, or Steve doing the laundry, as all cleaning services had to be canceled (Tony made sure that all providers were paid a year in advance, just to be sure and not deprive anyone of a job). The Avengers tried to stay in and be safe and give an example. Just... It wasn't their thing. A month had passed, stretching into more months, and the situation was not getting better and everyone was at the end of their wits, handling it better or worse. 

It had to happen and someone had to snap. Just, why, oh why, it had to be Tony? Steve thought about many scenarios. How to stop Bruce if he would Hulk out, how to contain Thor if he would rage out and throw tables, but Tony had this unstoppable energy Steve was never good at handling. Sure, he tried to throw some distractions in his husband's way, but Tony was so good at deflecting it was crazy. Once Iron Man set his mind on something, he had to achieve it. It was quite admirable, but in the current times, just frightening. 

Steve saw that Tony walked straight to Natasha and Clint, engrossed in a game of chess because once all the good games were either destroyed in frustration, or just were put aside, played one time too many, it was back to basic. To everyone's surprise of everyone, Clint could stay extremely focused, which shouldn't be a surprise as archery wasn't spitball. Something Clint was very good at too, but in a very bad way for everyone. 

"One for you," Tony said, handing Natasha a cuff bracelet, and then passing one to Clint. "One for you."

"What's that?" Natasha asked, looking at the piece of jewelry and Steve held his breath. 

"Since my labs are still running and trying to find a safe vaccine," Tony explained, and Steve felt a wave of love going through him - since pandemics started Tony redirected all his factories to produce surgical masks and hand sanitizers, and later on, even toilet paper, because that was an unexpected thing to run out during pandemics, but it had been happening all over the country, "I made something else," Tony said, putting a bracelet on top of Bruce's head, who remained still, deep in meditation. "It is still a prototype, but safe enough for a smaller group of people. Kind of protective gear, I took the design of the quantum suits and tweaked it a bit. It is not for combat one, just something to keep you and people around you safe. And I don't mean it in an 'I am gonna go out and happily jump in the field!' way!" Tony added in a harsher tone, just to make it clear that his work shouldn’t be treated recklessly. "We are going to visit hospitals and deliver face masks, go to retirement houses, anywhere people need support," Tony nudged Thor, who turned around from the window, still looking angry at the whole world, but minimally cheered up after he got his bracelet. "I matched all the suits to your personal styles, you will like yours, it is very stylish."

Steve listened to Tony's explanation, feeling that he got anxious for no good reason. He should trust Tony more and know that everything his husband did was for the greater good. 

"And this is yours," Tony walked to Steve, putting the bracelet out for Steve to take it. "So, what do you say? I know I kinda overstepped without consulting you first, but-"

"It is a great idea, Tony," Steve smiled, really meaning it, accepting the bracelet. The wonderful thing was that Tony, probably expecting some kind of protest from the captain of the team, looked surprised for a split of second, before smiling back. 

"Oh, I already scheduled an appointment at the veterans' house," Tony snapped his fingers, pointing at Steve. "All your peers were pretty excited that you will come to visit."

"Alright," Steve chuckled lightly, taking the playful jab. Visiting veterans' houses was a big part of his volunteering program before the pandemics and a great starting point for Avengers' new mission. 

“And some schools contacted us, they want you to do some pep talk for the kids -”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Steve perked up, “I already handled that and scheduled some zoom calls,” he said, excitement hearable in his voice. Talking with kids and visiting schools was always great. It was much better than those PSA videos he had filmed once in bulk for schools, that his teammates liked to rub in his face. There is one thing that will give you an edge - a hot lunch. That line never got old, especially during mealtime.

Tony made a thoughtful face, his eyebrows drawing together until a small line appeared between them. “I didn't know that you know what zoom is,” he said in all seriousness, but the humorous spark in his tired eyes gave away that he was joking. Steve grinned, puffing his chest out proudly. Tony liked to think he had to teach Steve about every modern piece of technology, but after being introduced to basics, Steve navigated himself pretty well.

"So, everyone suit up! We are leaving in 30 minutes!" Tony hollered, and for the first time in many weeks, the team looked lively, eagerly listening to the order. "By the way," Tony turned back to Steve, lowering his voice, "I put some extra time into your suit's design," Tony murmured and it would be sweet if he didn't add, "the neckline goes down to here," he said putting his finger against Steve's chest and sliding it down almost to the belly button.

"W-what?" Steve stuttered out, his eyes widening. No, it had to be a joke. He imagined himself with an almost naked torso, his chest wrapped in some sheer material. It wasn't a protective suit, but something a male stripper would wear. "You said that suits are very stylish!"

"No, I said that Thor's suit is very stylish," Tony smiled impishly, meaning the impressive design he came up with for Thor that included some mean broad shoulder pads and lighting patterns, "yours is more of eye candy. Nurses and doctors deserve some fun too, right?" Tony winked and even dared to lightly smack Steve's butt. "Get a move on, baby!" he advised, turning around and joining the rest of his team, answering questions about the upcoming event.

Steve stayed still, looking from his bracelet and back to Tony over and over again. There was no way Tony would make him a suit that would leave him half-naked, right? It had to be a joke. Something Tony did to let go off the tension. Surely, it was a joke. 

Or...

Steve sighed, clasping the bracelet around his wrist. Today showed that he shouldn't doubt his husband and trust him. With a smile, Steve walked after Tony and wrapped an arm around his husband, joining in listening to Tony's instruction about using the suit and following Iron Man's orders. 

---------

at the end I just want so say thank you to people who put themselves out there and allow the rest of us function normally, especially health care workers and teachers! please, all stay safe!

[nina-a-pines]

The Single Parents’ Club

Voltron fanfic - rater T (for swearing) - future Plance, but not here.

“Hey! Tell that woman to shut that baby up!”

Matt only had time to open his eyes wide before the old man shut the apartment’s door so hard that it even muffled the baby cry for a moment. Blinking, Matt rang the doorbell of the apartment before him.

“One minute!!” The answer was also louder than the crying.

“Shut up, you slut!”

As the door opened, Pidge’s furious eyes targeted the old man’s apartment.

“You shut up, you shit! Talk about my son one more time and I swear I’m gonna steal your hearing aid! Maybe then you’d leave me alone!”

“Pidge…?” Matt only stared at his sister, so surprised by her vocabulary that he didn’t even pay attention on the old man’s payback.

Pidge finally looked at him, fury leaving her face to show her tiredness. Murmuring him a quick ‘hi’, she left the door open to him while returned into her apartment. Matt followed her. Every step into the apartment, a new mess got revealed in front of his eyes.

Although the only problem in the living room was some clean clothes (and not so clean others) scattered around the corners, a not so small trash near the hallway that led to Pidge’s room was almost overflowing with dirty grime; arriving in the kitchen, a pile of dishes ready to collapse had formed in the sink and the stove was filthy. The only clean and organized part was the shelf with two baby bottles and other baby items.

“I know that you never was the most organized person in the world, but you was really so dependent of mom?” He tried to joke.

“Har, har” Pidge didn’t even look at him, more concentrated on filling a third bottle with boiled milk before checking the temperature. “What do you want, Matt?” asked while walking to the living room where, inside a baby playpen in the middle of the room, was the small being responsible for the crying.

Matt followed her again, just watching as his sister took his nephew into her arms and gently tried to calm him down before offer him the bottle. Even still muttering a little, the boy started to eat with no issues.

“I just came to see how you and Peter are doing. When you don’t go to work we barely talk.”

Pidge sighed, “I’m sorry, I should’ve called or something.”

Matt waved, as saying to her to forget that, and approached her to be able to look at his nephew. Peter had grown since the last time Matt saw him. With the face resembling more a human face than a knee, and eyes that could be kept open, Matt could barely say that that baby was the same one that he first met into Pidge’s arms, four months ago at the hospital.

The little grumble that Peter uttered, however, changed his thoughts.

“He didn’t get better yet?”

“No” Pidge moved her worried gaze from Peter to Matt. “I’m mixing the remedy with milk, just like the doctor said, but nothing yet.”

Matt just hummed.

He looked around one more time, analyzing the mess that apartment was. The mess that his sister was looking like.

“Katie…”

“No.”

“You need help.”

“No!” She turned at him, angry. “I wanted to have a kid; it’s my responsibility to take care of him. Mom and Dad have been helping me enough since I came back to work. I can’t let them to handle him sick like this too.”

Before Matt could say anything else, Peter dropped the bottle nozzle with a grunt, catching his mother’s attention back to him. Pidge nursed him while sitting on a clean part of the sofa and Matt sighed, knowing that trying and talk to Pidge now would be useless. It wasn’t that he disagreed that Peter was her responsibility, but Sam and Colleen, now retired, were more than happy about taking care of their only grandkid whenever Pidge needed. Sadly, his little sister always had a problem with letting people help her with things she decided to do by herself.

And boy, was Peter this type of decision.

Yes, Pidge was a thirty-years-old adult, a full grown woman with her own house, an established and promising career and she could do whatever she wanted of her life, but that still was a shock when his little sister told him, thirteen months ago, that she had gone to an artificial insemination clinic to get pregnant.

Although she explained him her reasons, Matt didn’t understand at the time and still don’t understand it completely today, but the nine months of pregnancy had given him time to get used to the idea, and looking at Peter today, Matt could never say that she had made a mistake. Nobody could. All the Holt family had grown attached at that sweet baby; all of them love him, and you know what? He didn’t even care that he lost the first place in the rank of most important people in Pidge's life.

Exactly because of Peter being her decision and so important to her that Matt understood why she wanted to be with him, especially while he was sick, but… With the apartment like that, and all the signals of stress and tiredness on Pidge’s face, Peter could pretty soon don’t be the only sick person there.

It doesn’t matter what Pidge thinks, she needed help and she needed it now.

Matt sat beside his sister on the sofa, looking at an almost sleeping Peter before start, calmly:

“I know you want to take care of him, but Katie denying help and bringing home your work every time he gets sick is not the solution.” Pidge frowned at him but Matt didn’t let himself get intimidated. “It’s clearly not working, I mean, look at this place. Your life turned into a mess since Peter was born, what’s not your fault,” he insisted on clarifying before she could say something. “You are a good mom, but you need help, practice, and especially remember to take care of yourself too.”

“I do take care of myself-”

“I mean more than stop eating only junk food.”

Pidge huffed, but didn’t try to argue, choosing to return her attention to her son.

“Do you remember my friend Shiro?” As she didn’t answer, he continued. “He’s a single parent too, and he created a group for single parents.

Pidge looked at him instantly, her eyes wide open.

“Are you serious??”

“Just try it.”

“Oh Tesla, you’re serious.” She almost growled.

“Pidge,” he started, sighing. “I really think it can be good to you, to be around people that live the same thing you do.”

“And what, Matt?” Her hard tone got his attention. She was more than just denying help. “Sitting in a circle with twenty other single parents to vent of how my week was hard and hear that everyone is there for me then listen to the others about how hard their weeks have been and say that I am there for them even if out of the meetings we won’t even remember that the others exist?”

Matt bit his lip. He should have thought about a better way to introduce the subject to Pidge. He should know better than suggesting to her anything similar to the anti-bullying group that Colleen persuaded her to attend when she was younger.

Despite her annoying and somewhat hurt expression, Matt considered himself lucky just because his sister hadn’t got up and went into hiding in her bedroom, but now he’d have to be even more careful with his next worlds.

“Well, first of all: Shiro’s group has only four parents counting with himself.”

“Good to him.”

“Second of all: the meeting is on Shiro’s house, so I don’t think there’s a circle of metal chairs.”

“How could you know?”

“And third of all:” he paused for a moment, just until Pidge looked at him again. “You can go in and out whenever you want, and this include in the middle of the first night if you really don’t like it.”

She was looking at his eyes so Matt knew she could see that he was being sincere. Pidge frowned, opened her mouth once before closing it without say anything and seemed like thinking about his offer. After two whole minutes, she sighed.

“Fine,” She raised a finger at his face. “One night. And only after Peter gets a little better”

“Deal!” Without a blink, Matt pulled out his cellphone from his jacket’s pocket and quickly texted something. The sound of Pidge’s cellphone receiving a message sounded from someplace of the apartment right after. “I sent you his address and what time they meet, his number too so you can call him if you’ve any more questions.”

He didn’t care as his sister frowned again, probably realizing that checking on her and Peter wasn’t the only reason for his visit, and just put his phone back at its place.

“Now,” he started, raising his arms at the little baby who had his big brown eyes glued at him. “Can I hold my nephew, please?”

[scarletsxwrites]

Just Kids

summary:

your relationship with steve has its ups and downs, but in the end, each of you will always come when the other calls

pairing: steve rogers x gender neutral!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of injuries, mentions of alcohol, drunk!steve is out of character an asshole

note: this is based on this song, i recommend listening to it while you read (or just listening in general, because it’s a beautiful song); also, as a disclaimer, this is my first time integrating song lyrics in this way, so if it’s a bit clunky that’s why

Were we just kids, just starting out?

Being teammates usually didn’t leave a lot of room for a relationship. You were so hardened, so war-torn and traumatized, that intimacy sort of felt like sandpaper on raw skin. It was foreign; it felt wrong. Intimacy made you feel like a child, meek and helpless. Intimacy with Steve only increased that feeling by a thousand.

Didn’t we know then what love was about?

Still, the tension between you was palpable. When he asked you out, you said you’d think about it. At a great deal of prodding from Natasha and Wanda, and even an exasperated sit-down with Sam and Bucky (that conversation is for an entirely different day), you finally said yes.

Were we just foolin’? Playin’ around?

It didn’t feel too serious. You were just taking a walk in a nearby park. It was fall, you were wearing simple jeans and a brown leather jacket. Steve had donned something similar. Even when his hand found yours, you didn’t think too much of it. Sure, it was a date, but it wasn’t like he was proposing. He’d probably get bored of you eventually anyway. This was like a game, like cat and mouse.

When you got back to the compound, however, he turned to you and offered you that soft, unsure, genuine, beautiful smile. “Doll,” he began, his voice fading almost as soon as it had come. You chewed on your bottom lip. You didn’t dare speak. His hand found your face, fingers caressing you gently. You thought you’d hate it, but you didn’t. It was nice to be held, to be felt.

It was nice to be known.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke, finally, an eternity - or maybe a few seconds - later. You nodded, lips parting slightly in anticipation.

His mouth found yours, softly at first, and you took a shuffling step forward. One of his hands settled on your waist, the other stayed anchored on your cheek. When you pulled apart, he bid you a soft goodnight and went inside, presumably to his room. You stood on the stoop for a moment and realized that you were blindingly, undyingly, absolutely head-over-heels in love with Steve Rogers.

Were we ever gonna get out of this town?

Retirement for Steve was bittersweet.

Move to Seattle.

Retirement for you couldn’t come fast enough.

Stay up all night.

You moved to a little apartment together, full of second-hand furniture and not quite enough space for two. It was perfect.

That was when bedtime was our biggest fight.

You spent your first night giggling and playing board games, watching movies and throwing popcorn at each other during the boring parts. Every time Steve proposed going to sleep, you’d goad him into just one more game, or ten more minutes. He’d give in without fail, because he couldn’t say no to you.

You didn’t go to sleep until the sun was peeking up above the horizon, a hesitant hello to your new life.

All in a moment, all in a sound. All in a day’s work, we’re tumbling down.

You found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, absolutely fuming. You glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning. Your anger and worry kept clashing in your gut, waging war against each other. One minute, you were thinking of the new asshole you would rip him as soon as the door opened. The next, you were mulling over all the horrible things that could have happened; had he gotten into a fight, a car accident, some other shitty situation?

Not only that, but it was the third time in a week that you had been in the same goddamn situation.

You were drawn from your mental war by the door creaking open and shuffling footsteps heading your way. He barely even looked at you as he walked past, just mumbled a hello and kept moving. He smelled strongly of booze, that much you realized; as he walked past you, it was like a wall of bar was hitting you in the face. In an instant, your concern died.

“Excuse me?” You spoke, your tone incredulous. Your eyebrows practically hit your hairline. He turned to face you, confusion written across his face. Normally, you’d laugh at that expression, bop him on the nose or press a kiss to his cheek. Now, your anger only grew; the nerve it took him to look confused at your words! You stood up, pushing the chair back so quickly it skittered from under you and hit the wall behind it. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I told you I was going out with Sam ‘n Buck,” he said. His words were slurred so badly you barely even understood them. “What’s the big deal?”

You scoffed. “The big deal, Steven, is that it’s three in the goddamn morning and I’ve been sitting here for fucking hours wondering if you were alive or hurt or dead! For the third time this week, no less!”

He leaned against the frame of the door to your living room, and you watched as he rolled his eyes. Had the absolute audacity to roll. his. eyes. The anger was licking at your insides, flames threatening to burst. “I’m a big boy, Y/N. You coulda gone to sleep.”

“And you coulda called,” you rounded the table, taking a menacing step closer. “You coulda sent me a text. Fuck! You coulda sent me a carrier pigeon and it would’ve been fine! Instead, you let me sit up until three in the morning waiting for you to get home, praying to whatever the fuck was listening that I would even fucking see you again!”

“Okay, mom,” he said. It was clear that your words were going in one ear and out the other. You flinched at the tone. How could he just not care? How could he be so casual about this? “Are we done here? I gotta get to bed.”

“God, you’re an asshole when you’re drunk,” your voice bordered on a sneer, the look in your eyes one of absolute disgust. “Yeah, go to bed, Steve. Don’t expect me to be here when you wake up.”

It was an empty threat, one you didn’t really mean in the moment. It was clear he thought the same thing, because he just shook his head and disappeared into your bedroom. You stood in the kitchen for a long while, staring blankly at the counter, blinking away tears. What was his problem? Your brain immediately jumped to the worst: he wasn’t happy with you, he was cheating on you, he wanted to leave, he didn’t want you.

When the tears fell, you took a shuddering breath and packed a bag, sending Natasha no more than a warning text to let her know that you needed a couch for the night. When you got to her place, she (and Clint, who surprised you as you walked in by calling a hello from the kitchen) welcomed you with open arms. She insisted that you sleep in her bed with the two of them; normally, you would have objected, but you didn’t think you’d be able to sleep without the warmth of another body, not after so long with Steve. You still laid awake most of the night, but at least their presences were comforting.

You didn’t drift off until the early morning. Your last thought was a memory, one of board games and movies and a happier day.

Down by the old school, trash in the street. Searching the eyes of the strangers we meet.

Time passed. You found yourself finding excuses to visit the compound more frequently, as well as excuses to leave whenever Steve entered the room. Wanda told you, frowning, that he had rejoined the team. You refused to acknowledge the pang of concern and fear you felt in your heart; what he did wasn’t your problem anymore. If he wanted to come out of retirement, that was his deal. If he got killed, it wouldn’t matter to you.

Asking will it get better? Will we be alone? Turning the wheels of our bicycles home.

You pushed down the creeping self-doubt until you got home every night, shoved the thoughts of you-weren’t-good-enough into the back of your mind until you could cry in your bed, alone. It was better this way, clearly.

You never considered the idea that maybe he was breaking, too.

Over the rainbow, out in the snow. Learning to walk with the sand in our toes.

Eventually the day came that you couldn’t escape the room when he entered, which was more by accident than anything. You were in a hospital room, visiting Sharon after an injury on a recent mission, when you heard a commotion from the hallway. You got up to check what it was, and your stomach plummeted when you saw Sam and Natasha rushing in, supporting a limp Steve between them. He was rushed off by nurses and you hurried down the hallway towards the two he had come in with.

No words passed between the three of you. Instead, you fell together; they clung to you tightly and you let them, stroking one hand through Nat’s hair and rubbing Sam’s back comfortingly with the other. You’d ask what happened later.

Truthfully, seeing Steve hadn’t shaken you as much as you might’ve thought. Of course, the injuries had triggered that familiar panic in your gut. But the sight of him, just him, hadn’t caused the rush of emotion from that night to come back; the anger, the fear, the anguish. You supposed you had moved on, learned to function. But still, you missed him. You felt the undeniable urge to be with him now, to card your fingers through his hair and wait for him to wake up, gently admonish him for whatever stupid thing he did but then say how grateful you were to see his eyes again.

You heaved a sigh, knowing what you needed to do.

Long to be tall, kissed when you fall. Hoping that someone will come when you call.

“Y/N,” Steve mumbled, drawing your attention. He’d been out since the doctors finished operating; this was the first sign of life besides the constant beeping of the heart monitor.

Your brow furrowed. His eyes hadn’t opened, he showed no signs of knowing you were in the room. “Steve?” You whispered, inching your chair a bit closer. “Are you awake?”

“‘M sorry,” he slurred, and you realized he was still out. He was dreaming about you. “Y/N, please, please… ‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry. Jus’ come back, please…”

“He’s been doing that since you left,” Sam’s voice in the door drew your attention from Steve. “Crashed on my couch a few times when he didn’t wanna be alone in your place. One night I woke up and went to get some water. I heard him doing that. He really misses you, Y/N.”

“I miss him,” you said, finally allowing yourself to be honest. You looked back to Steve and ran a hand through his hair. His face relaxed slightly, his mumbling going from distinguishable words to soft, simple noises. “I miss him so much, Sammy.”

“He’ll wake up soon,” Sam spoke. “Tell him.”

And then he was gone.

You call, you call, you call.

When Steve finally woke up, you had fallen asleep in your chair. He looked at you for a long time and then he smiled, knowing what this meant. When you startled awake, he was still looking at you, that soft smile on his face.

You didn’t speak, just took his hand and looked at him and leaned in slowly, and the kiss was hesitant at first, just like it had been the first time. “I love you, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured. You didn’t dare pull back too far, so these words were spoken into the air between you.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your eyes found his. “Why?”

“I never had normalcy,” he said, and you were grateful that you didn’t need to explain any further. He knew what you wanted, what you needed. He always knew what you needed. “I never had domesticity. I finally had it, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It terrified me.”

You nodded, knowing how he felt. The hand that wasn’t in his found his cheek. “Try again?” You asked. He breathed out a sigh, something relieved and blissful.

“Please. Please, let’s try again.”

You call, you call, you call.

You became Y/N Rogers on a cold November afternoon, in a church packed with your family and friends. Wanda and Natasha, wearing bridesmaids dresses and holding bouquets, cheered you on as your now-husband pulled you in for a kiss; Sam and Bucky, dressed in expensive tuxedos with matching boutonnieres, did the same from across the aisle.

The reception was one of the happiest moments of your life. All you could see was Steve, the smiling guests around you; all you could feel was the euphoria in your veins.

You call, you call, you call.

“Peggy!” You called, the deck of your house creaking under your feet. “Sarah! Dinner!”

Twin heads of hair looked up from where they had been laying in the sand, laughing and talking in the way that only twins knew how. Peggy Natasha Rogers and Sarah Elizabeth Rogers came running into the house, leaving you to follow behind. When you entered the kitchen, Steve was putting your youngest, Samuel James Rogers, into his high chair. He reached for you, chubby fingers grabbing at the air as though to pull you toward him. You smiled and moved over to press a gentle kiss to his temple, greeting him with a warm “hi, Sammy” before you moved to make the twins’ plates.

Steve kissed you on the cheek as you stood together at the stove. His hand settled, briefly, on yours, his fingers dancing over the rings there. “I love you,” he said.

You grinned. “I love you, too.”

You call, you call, you call…

[narirose]

Out of Sight, Out of Mind - Chapter 11

Watching the three Alteans try pizza for the first time was a sight to see. They were confused by the different toppings and types, especially with the added opinions off all of the Earthlings. Due to the large group of 12 people, they ordered 6 different pizzas with different combinations of toppings. By the time the group had revealed all of their weird combinations, the Alteans and Galran were skeptical. They tried Shiro and Keith’s first because of better judgment and kept the weirdest for last. That meant Pidge would be able to eat in peace for a while.

Allura ultimately liked just cheese, Krolia liked Shiro and Keith’s, Romelle liked Hunk’s Pineapple and Ham, and of course, Coran enjoyed Pidge and Matt’s. Their pizza was basically just a combination of all of the topping they could possibly get onto a pizza. Usually, the small pizza place only allowed about three toppings per pizza, but the Holt family got an exception because they were friends of the owners.

Pidge was aching to watch some Earth movies so the group decided they should just hang out all night, but they needed a few things first. They sent Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Matt to the corner store a couple blocks down. Ultimately, they sent Keith into the store alone, and video called him so that they would be able to see. Pidge and Matt couldn’t go in because the store was owned by family friends, and Lance and Hunk couldn’t go in because they’d visited the store a few times when they visited Pidge back while they were still in high school. That left Keith. The red paladin walked aimlessly around the store for a couple minutes, allowing the group to make decisions about what they wanted to get. They had about 50 bucks, but Keith doubted they would use all of it. Most of the items in the store were only a dollar or two.

“Stop!” Lance shouted. Keith jumped back at the sudden noise. “Pick up those. The Bugles, they’re essential!” “Bugles? Out of all the Earth foods to miss, you miss Bugles?” “Uh, Yeah! They’re a classic. Plus I need to show y’all something.” “Okay…” Laughing, Keith grabs a package and keeps walking.

Every once in a while he stops and picks up a new item that the group suggested. Most of them were sweets but every few minutes he’ll be asked to pick up something weird like mini pepperoni and nacho cheese sauce. Hunk wanted smores materials and Matt wanted almost every sour candy in there. He also picked up a couple things that Shiro and Mr. and Mrs. Holt wanted. After almost an hour of walking around the small convenience store, he walked up to the register. He was carrying two full shopping baskets full of junk food and he probably looked crazy. Keith ended up using all 50 bucks and even having to call Lance in to lend him another eight bucks. He then proceeded to awkwardly carry eight bags of junk food and liters of soda out the door.

By the time they got back, the group of adults had already chosen three movies to vote from. They ended up watching Star Wars, ironically. Since they hadn’t been on Earth for quite some time, they decided to watch The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. Keith, Pidge, Lance, and Hunk sat smushed together on the couch. Throughout the first movie, Keith quietly whispered questions between Lance and Pidge, about the series and who all the characters were. They were patient until he asked what 'the force' is. Pidge jumped up and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Shiro paused the movie and turned around to see the scene unfold.

“I can’t believe it,” they held the back of their hand to their forehead, sighing dramatically, “Keith of all people, my fellow nerd, hasn’t seen a single Star Wars movie, plus he doesn’t even know what the force is!” “I guess as a kid I never had anyone to watch it with, so I never really got into it.” Keith defended. “Oh my gosh, my poor Keith!” Lance whispered, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “We must teach you!”

For the next thirty minutes, Hunk, Lance, Matt, and Pidge took it upon themselves to teach their fellow paladin all about Star Wars, its ships, and its theories. By the end, they prided themselves on getting Keith hooked into the story and characters, and they even got Shiro interested in the very, very in-depth theories. They unpaused the movie and continued watching.

Halfway into The Last Jedi, Lance hopped up and ran to the kitchen. He came back hauling all the bags of food they had gotten, and proceeded to pass them out. He passed Shiro his candied pineapple and YooHoo and Matt his Pringles and huge jar of pickles. Then he passes the liters of soda and bags of pre-popped popcorn over to Colleen and Sam and then continued to pass out the rest to his friends sitting on the couch. He handed Keith a bottle of soy milk and a gigantic bag of hot fries, Hunk his Funyuns and dark chocolate, and Pidge their sour patch kids and peanut butter cookies. Then he plopped himself in between Keith and Hunk and pulled out his Bugles and packages of Oreos. The five had also picked up a couple basic things like gummy worms, Hershey’s chocolate, Doritos, etc so that the non-earthlings could try all of the “amazing cuisine” that they had here on Earth. They watched the movie and passed their snacks around so that the Alteans and Galran would get the full experience.

After the movie ended, Pidge jumped up and popped Mamma Mia into the DVD player. Mr. and Mrs. Holt had already retired to their room, and Allura, Romelle, Krolia, and Coran had gone to sleep in the guest room. Meanwhile, Matt had grabbed a couple of sleeping bags for them to sleep on. Most of them were either asleep or about to be, but when the yellow and blue paladins heard ‘I have a Dream’ playing, they jumped up and immediately started to sing along. Although the opening song only lasted about a minute, the three had sung and laughed enough to wake Keith and Matt. The two newly awake people, looked blearily around the room to see the group of teens dancing around the room.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Keith asked, still half asleep. “Um, We’re only watching one of the best movies ever made!” Lance answered, jumping on the couch next to where Keith was sitting. “K’mon Keith! Dance with us!”

Lance pulls Keith to his feet and drags him to the center of the living room where the other two were dancing. Instead of dancing like the rest of them, Keith awkwardly stands there until he decides he would rather go raid the kitchen for a late night snack.

“Keith! Grab me more pickles!” Matt shouts to the red paladin. “I’m not doing that! I still remember when we were younger and Adam, Shiro and I had to take you to the hospital for drinking too much pickle juice.” “What!?”Pidge gasps and pauses their jumping to turn around. “I never knew that! I mean, I knew Matt had a problem, but not that big of a problem!” “Yeah,” The suddenly hear Shiro say from his positing sleeping on the ground, “That was not a fun trip to the hospital. I was the one that had to explain to the nurse what was wrong with you.” “Haha, sorry Shiro!” Matt said before flopping back down onto his sleeping bag.

Keith came back with a glass of regular milk and some Oreos, and sat next to Matt, watching the three teens dance around. He dipped his Oreos in the milk, and when he ran out of cookies to eat, he chugged the glass.

“Keith, you’re gonna regret that” Shiro sang from his own sleeping bag. “Whatever, I’ll deal with the problem in the morning” “What’s the problem,” Lance wheezed, sitting next to Shiro. He had just finished belting out a song with Hunk and Pidge and overheard the conversation. “Keith, here,” Shiro motioned to the red paladin, “Is lactose intolerant, but refuses to admit it.” “Because I’m not!” Keith huffs. Sure, milk maybe made his stomach hurt, but that didn’t mean he was lactose intolerant. That would mean he had a weakness… And Keith did NOT have weaknesses. And ever since we found out he’s part Galran, I’ve been trying to convince him that’s the reason.” Shiro said. “Awwweee, Is Keith upset that he can’t have milk because he’s part space kitty!?” Lance said, ruffling Keith’s hair. “Am not!” Keith growled, swatting Lance’s hand away, “Now can we please stop talking about my disagreement with milk!” “Sure, sure,” Lance waved his hand, changing the subject. “So did y’all wanna see why I wanted the Bugles.” “Sure.” Everyone said in unison, Hunk being the only one who was actually excited.

Lance pulled out the bag of Bugles and grabbed a blanket that was draped across the back of the couch. He adorned the blanket over his head and arranged the Bugles over his fingertips. “It is I, Haggar, the space-witch! I took the beautiful man's arm and then made a clone of him! I've tortured 6 teens for years and given then all anxiety and PTSD. I also have an Amazing husband and son who have killed trillions of people! Now give me all the quintessence!” He said in his best imitation of Haggar. The others burst into laughter, as a proud Lance watched his friends. It had been so long since any of them had joked around about their situation, that by the time they were done laughing, all of their faces were beet red. “You’re right Lance,” Keith said slowly, trying to regulate his breathing, “the Bugles were essential.” Now it was Lance’s turn to become beet red. He laughed and said, “I told you, so!”

--- --- ---

One musical later, the group of friends gathered on Pidge’s living room floor. They laid on old sleeping bags, talking in the dark. Pidge brought out their old star projector, and they set it up so it was facing the ceiling. They talked about what they were excited about, and what they would do after the war was over. They didn’t want to get too deep, so they only talked about the places they would go or the people they would see.

“What if we get to meet like... Oprah and Ellen... or like The Obamas!” Pidge suddenly said, throwing their hands up into the air. “Oh, I guess I never thought about that,” Shiro said, in deep thought. “Yeah, we’re gonna be so famous!” Lance whispered. He didn’t know how he would feel about all of the attention, but maybe he could finally be able to buy his mother the nice beach house she always wanted, or buy his brothers and sisters new stuff so that they wouldn’t steal his. “Haha, but we still have to finish this war, so stay alive!” Matt joked, grimly. “Wow, way to kill the mood, Matt,” the green paladin said, as they aimlessly punched at their brother’s arm. “Ok, well now that I’m thinking about the possibility of death, I’m ecstatic, so I’m gonna go to sleep now so that I can start dreaming about it!” the red paladin said in a monotone voice, turning on his side. “Yeah, same.” Shiro laughed, pulling the covers over himself. “Yeah, I think Hunk’s been asleep for a few minutes so I will, too.” Lance followed. “Please don’t wake me until at least 10,” Pidge grumbled as they flopped onto their stomach.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

[this-brownie]

3.31.20

it feels therapeutic to write things out and be able to put my thoughts into words that I can visualize. I, sadly, had to stop writing in my old blog because Tumblr locked me out of it because I no longer had access to that Email…fucking yahoo and 2007 emails…anyway. I want to do a continuation from that blog so I will be making quite some posts about my past, starting from around April 2016.

https://somebrownie.tumblr.com

lets begin with a little background. so dad died on April 16 2017, but he had been sick for years before that. it first started off with slurred speech almost like he was drunk or something, which was when I was in tenth grade, and then progressed to him not being able to speak at all, resorting to writing on paper to communicate with us, not being able to eat solid foods anymore, having to get a tube attached onto his throat, bringing in medical equipment that was situated on his bed while he slept, and eventually having to move to a nursing home completely where he spent his final two years. I am not going to discuss what a domineering and prideful man he was, what a workaholic he was, how he tried to show us his love and affection through money and materialism, or how his death impacted me. those can be discussed at a later time. 

one positive result that came from this situation is that I had a little more freedom in pursuing the life I wanted. my mom always looked to him for guidance on every decision— I knew I wouldn't be able to marry the person who I loved because he would never allow it. Levi is a jew after all and as a muslim im supposed to hate him, of course. after he died, my mom became severely lost— she had never been completely independent. however, she still had her reservations when I told her who I wanted to marry. I had to be extremely forward, logical, and manipulative about it because old habits and a lifetime of molded mentality don't wash away that easily. a few factors helped me achieve my goal: I was in the process of graduating and had no means to get a job in my field because I didnt have the legal papers to reside in this country. by getting married, I would obtain a green card which would allow me to make money and make use of my degree. also, there was less pressure to uphold an image for our distant family and relatives— people had naturally started distancing themselves the sicker my dad became. less wealth flowed into our house meaning less parties to throw, less opportunities to give gifts to others, and less reasons to cook fancy food. this all contributed to people checking up less on my mom— all these people who she hold so dearly, couldn't give less of a fuck when they had nothing to benefit them. I asked her, are these the people youre trying to impress? is this the reason you want to hold me back? because it won't look good to THEM even tho they don't help us  at all? even while we are struggling? the last sneaky tactic I pulled was telling her that there are several friends who are willing to marry me, but at a cost. only one person who is willing to do it without a charge (good old Levi haha). and to my utter shock, she slowly agreed. I wasn't sure if she completely understood so I confirmed…”you know that means I have to live with him right…in case the lawyers check?” she said she understood and was okay with it. sweet success. that was June 2018.. in a couple months we will have been married for two years now.

Levi and I have been seeing each other since 2011. so our marriage was….a long time coming to say the least. luckily I had the chance to meet almost all of his immediate family members before we fully committed. the first people I met were his aunt candy and uncle chuck way back in 2013 for thanksgiving, and then again for Levis graduation ceremony in 2014. I've gone over for thanksgiving and passover dinners throughout the years as well. I met Levis parents for the first time in 2015 (I think) in boston and I was deathly nervous. his dad used to teach Jewish studies at both Harvard and yale—he's retired but still gets invited to conferences to gives speeches around the world. his mom opened a free after school program to teach poor children who don't have access to educational resources. so ofc I was so nervous I could hardly breathe. I wore a cute, not too revealing, dress and minimal makeup. thankfully, they steered the conversation and actually didnt interrogate me too much. we mostly just told stories which was nice. I remember one conversation where I talked about my degree in linguistics, my affinity for learning and understanding how languages work, and seamlessly adding an anecdote from a tv show that Levi and I watched from just the night before. the person on tv, I think he may have been European, wasn't able to pronounce the word “skewer” which I found very interesting because there are many sounds our tongues can't produce because we are not used to moving them in that certain way. something about the brain and tongue not being able to make the connection between the ways a foreign word is spelled and the different areas it has intonations. like, native Spanish speakers would have a difficult time saying an English word that starts with ‘sp’ like “special” or ‘sk’ in “school” because in their language the letter s isn't followed by another consonant; the sound of the letter ‘e’ always precedes the ‘s’ (like if you were to literally sound out the letter ‘s’)-- so a speaker would pronounce it as “especial”. anyway! I told his parents this tidbit that I found intriguing and added that Levi isn't able to pronounce the sound ‘gh’ but his dad was able to make all those sounds perfectly! which impressed me and put a smile on my face. his mom, who is French, was practicing the different sounds herself (not properly) and his dad just makes eye contact with me, rolls his eyes in a goofy way aimed at his wife, which cracked me up because here is this sweet woman trying her best and her silly husband secretly, but lovingly, making fun of her. it touched me because it felt so tender and genuine, when I had never really seen something like that exchanged in between my own parents.

I met his younger sister and middle brother, but only after we got married. his sister alissa is a such a sweet, quiet, docile woman who really looks up to and adores Levi. she used to stay near us while she studied law at nyu. his brother David is animated, quirky yet can be very serious, and is very kind as well. I probably didnt leave a good first impression because the three of us had been walking to a restaurant and this HUGE man and his huge ass fucking dog purposely bumped into me, in order to get by me. I don't think Ive ever gotten that angry at a stranger. I was actually in pain at how hard he smacked into me. I started cursing and Levi was shocked that I was being so loud/violent especially in front of his family member. I just said “did you see his fucking size? did he really need half the block just ti get past me?” in my head im thinking, its because im a small woman that he knows he can get away with it. and then Levi finally realized the gravity of the situation and said “should I go talk to him?” but the man had already walked away at this point. I calmed down at that point thinking, yes im gonna let my tiny husband fight this massive douche bag. I apologized to david and we just continued on.

I never got a chance to meet levi’s eldest brother, wife and youngest kids until I visited Israel (different post!) but I did meet hilly, their oldest daughter when she visited nyc with Levis parents. she's sweet, a bit of a rebel, maybe even hotheaded and insecure like the way I was when I was a teen. I enjoyed spending time with her and gifted her a bunch of lipsticks/glosses and a mascara from Sephora when we all had to say goodbye. I think she felt comfortable that I was younger because she opened up to me about her boyfriend, and told me to keep it a secret. I knew she liked me too because once Levi and I finally got married, she told him that she knew we were going to get married as soon as she met me.

even though I had a lot of luxuries as a child, I never truly experienced unconditional love without trauma or negativity. others may have it worse, but I had what I had. I've dealt with it and come away from it as a better person thanks to Levi. I feel happy to call them my family now, and that they accept me without hesitation despite me being muslim, or much younger. I still feel shy to talk to them on the WhatsApp group chat but im working on it! 

[whoareurl]

Beyond the Limit

my first commission!! enjoy some sick!vitya pushing himself through training courtesy of @hothedgie

-

Forgetfulness is Viktor’s primary personality trait, a fact well-known in the figure skating world. Aside from forgetful, he’s competitive and determined and hopelessly in love with his fiancé. There were some fans who had worried that Viktor’s return to skating would be tainted - undermined, even - by his unabashed love for Yuuri Katsuki of Japan. Articles had speculated whether Viktor would ‘go easy’ on Yuuri when they were in direct competition or give Yuuri a more technically difficult program to deliberately boost his score.

But the fans who worried about that clearly didn’t know Viktor Nikiforov.

“Again, Vitya!” Yakov’s tone is a practiced mix of bored and frustrated. “You know better than to present that sloppy footwork to me as improvement.”

Yakov is a tough coach but Viktor is doubtful he’d flourish under anybody else. Though he’s very self-motivated, he needs Yakov’s keen eye and unrelenting criticism to drive him, to spur him to practice until his feet are battered and bruised.

Viktor runs through the step sequence again but he starts watching his feet halfway through and he knows he’s about to be berated before Yakov even yells for him to stop. Viktor skates to a stop in front of his coach without waiting to be summoned, panting from the exertion.

“What’s gotten into you today, boy?” Yakov grunts.

Viktor doesn’t know how to answer him. What has gotten into him today? He supposed he could put it down to a bad night’s sleep. He’d woken feeling exhausted and overheated (and without Yuuri, which always made for a bad morning). The fatigue hadn’t gone away with breakfast and had plagued him all throughout his morning run. Everything about his body felt heavy today.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, pushing his fringe away from his face with a gloved hand.

Yakov squints at him suspiciously and then sighs. “You’re getting nowhere with that step sequence today. Go stretch and eat something before you see the she-devil.”

A reluctant smile tugs at Viktor’s lips and he obeys. When he’s bending over to untie his skates, he feels overcome by a sudden rush of dizziness and has to throw a hand onto the ground to stop himself from toppling onto his face. He straightens and gives himself a shake. That was...odd.

He pulls his leg up into the bench to undo his skates instead and absently picks at the bento Yuuri had left out for him that morning.

Since moving to St Petersburg, the pair have fallen into a routine of domesticity and it makes Viktor’s heart swell. Whoever is awake first will make lunch for the two of them and feed Makkachin who will crawl into bed with the other until they get up to go for a run. Makkachin had pulled ahead of Viktor several times that morning. For some reason, he just couldn’t keep up with her. He wonders if perhaps he’s low on iron. It’s happened before, after all.

Lilia is as unforgiving as ever. She puts Viktor through his paces for hours, bemoaning his inelegant lines and poor posture.

“You could learn a thing or two from that Katsuki boy besides sex positions,” she says, making Viktor flush right to the tips of his ears. Lilia has always been blunt like that but it never fails to catch Viktor off guard. That’s probably why he likes her; she surprises him.

When Viktor stops for the third time to get a drink, Lilia frowns deeply at him.

“This is what half a season off will do to you,” she scolds as Viktor gulps at his water, thinking that his water weight might rival that of a small elephant right now. “Go home and don’t show your face in my studio again until you’re willing to put in the work.”

Viktor obeys feeling chagrined. That’s twice today he’s been kicked out of practice early. As he heads home, he digs his fingernails into his palm to keep himself from crying with frustration. He’s not weak and he won’t let Yakov and Lilia treat him like he is. This is probably his last season.

He’s going to fight for it.

~

The next morning, Viktor is up bright and early despite his lethargic body’s protests and he meets Yuuri in the kitchen as he’s sitting down to eat his yoghurt.

“Morning,” Yuuri says with surprise, smiling as Viktor swoops in to press a kiss on his cheek. “Did I wake you?”

Viktor smiles brightly. “Not at all. I just missed seeing you in the mornings.”

This isn’t a lie. Viktor had indeed missed spending this time with Yuuri before they had to start training. Yuuri always showers before he has breakfast so his hair is still damp and sits wildly atop his head. He has a speck of yoghurt on his upper lip which Viktor can’t help but kiss away.

“You’re such a sap,” Yuuri chuckles, ruffling Viktor’s hair fondly on his way to the sink to clean his spoon. He deposits it in the drying rack and the yoghurt tub in the bin before donning his skate bag.

Viktor’s eyes sweep Yuuri’s toned body. He’s dressed for practice with a grandpa sweater thrown over his t-shirt for warmth on the journey to the rink. His tight skate pants reveal the strong curve of his thighs and Viktor self-consciously prods at his own leg beneath the table. He has a long way to go before he’s back to his usual level of fitness and he’s very suddenly reminded that Yuuri is four years younger than him. In figure skating terms, that’s a lot.

Maybe...maybe he’s getting too old for this.

Yuuri tilts his head to the side, just one of Viktor’s many mannerisms he’s picked up during their time together. “Vitya?” He looks concerned, brows furrowing as he zeroes in on Viktor’s expression which he quickly moulds into a smile.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” he states cheerily. “Still waking up.”

Apparently satisfied with this, Yuuri’s face softens. “Don’t sacrifice your sleep for me, okay? You have a rest day tomorrow. Have a lie in and then we can have lunch together.”

This time, Viktor’s smile is genuine. “Okay! Have a good day, Yuuri,” he chirps, teasingly drawing out the first syllable and making Yuuri roll his eyes fondly. He laughs out a farewell and then he’s gone.

The change in Viktor is immediate and he slumps against the kitchen table in an unbearably painful fit of coughing. His chest is aching, head pounding; he feels sleepy and generally like he could do with an extra hour in bed. When the coughing subsides, he presses his warm cheek against the cool table and groans.

hekETCHhuh!

Viktor blinks, surprised by the harsh sound of his own sneeze. Do they usually sound like that? He isn’t sure. Another makes itself known immediately.

hh...heZHICHHuh!

That was more what he’d been expect-

ihHZZSHHhhh!

...expecting.

He swipes under his nose with a piece of rough kitchen paper, feeling much grumpier than he had been just moments ago. He curses quietly. This is some bullshit.

Reluctantly, he shuffles into the bathroom and pulls the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet, shoving it under his tongue with such impatient force that he lets out a little noise of pain. Even as he stands there, staring at his disgruntled expression in the mirror, he has a sense that this isn’t going to be good.

38.6.

He scowls at the display and roughly jams the thermometer back where it came from. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t have time for this. Russian Nationals are hot on his heels and this is probably the last one he’ll ever get to compete in. Viktor isn’t an idiot; he’s pushing 30 and, in figure skating terms, he may as well be in a nursing home. He’s a living legend and he’s determined not to fizzle out like so many skaters before him who didn’t know when to quit. He knows when to quit and his body hasn’t had enough yet.

He’s Viktor Nikiforov and he’s going to go out with a bang.

~

...yeah he’s fizzling out.

Practice is exhausting and Yurio’s snarky remarks about his age don’t help much but Viktor deals with them as he always does - by pretending he’s not hurt.

“Aren’t you worried you’re gonna break a hip on that quad loop, grandpa?” Yurio taunts and it’s not different from his usual attitude but, for some reason, Viktor takes it to heart.

Being under the weather is making him feel vulnerable. He wishes Yuuri were here. Yuuri is good at knowing when he needs a little reassurance and tact has never exactly been Yakov’s strong suit.

Viktor is well aware that he’s the oldest skater here. Retirement is looming for him and he’s afraid. He’s been skating all his life and being without that is frightening. He wonders how long it will take him to turn out like Yakov.

And he throws himself into a triple axel to stop thinking about it. The landing is sloppy and the effort leaves him feeling like he could collapse on the ice then and there.

Yurio eyes him suspiciously. “What’s up with you anyway?” He asks and it’s clear he means for it to sound nonchalant.

“Nothing,” Viktor bites out, swallowing down a cough and storming off the ice in a very Yurio-esque fashion. Nobody comes after him.

When he’s safely locked in the bathroom, he coughs so hard that he finally collapses against the toilet, too dizzy to hold himself upright. The problem with Viktor is that he gets sick fast. He can go from 0 to 100 in a day and a half and it seems like, in characteristic Viktor style, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He brings up a hand to swipe the tears from his cheeks but ends up clamping it over his nose instead when a vicious sneeze rips its way out of his sore throat.

hhHZZSHUHhk!

With just that one sneeze, Viktor feels like he’s about to faint. The building pressure in his head is dizzying. So he’s less than pleased when he falls forward again, curling in on himself on the floor as the next two predictable sneezes follow.

ehhHUHKSHhh! hihh-INGXT!

He groans lowly, watching the cubicle spin sickeningly around him. He shuts his eyes and breathes.

For a while, he thinks about going home. Yakov would yell but he’d understand if Viktor just explained to him that he felt horribly dizzy. Yakov might be tough but he wasn’t a sadist. If anything, Viktor would probably get a row for showing up at all. But in the end he pushes himself up on his wobbly legs (it’s difficult in his skates) and stumbles over to the sinks. He splashes his hot face with cool water and convinces himself that he feels marginally better.

So he steps back onto the ice. But Viktor is burning. The heat of his fever courses through his body though he shivers in the cold rink air. His focus is so messy that he can barely see where he’s going and it’s completely his own fault when Mila knocks him onto his back during her run through.

She’s holding a hand out to him in an instant and pulling him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Viktor!” She squeaks, dusting the ice shavings off his clothes.

Yakov is yelling somewhere in the haze of Viktor’s perception but he can’t really hear him. He nods curtly to Mila and tries to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. He can feel her watching him as he skates inelegantly over to where Yakov is cursing at him and plonks down on a bench without bothering to put on his guards. Yakov glares down at him.

“You were always difficult, Vitya, but this isn’t like you,” he growls.

Viktor can feel his throat closing over. He can’t cry in front of Yakov. He just can’t.

“Sorry, Yakov,” he forces out past the lump in his throat.

Yakov sighs. “Go home, Vit-”

“No!” Viktor’s head snaps up and he stares Yakov dead in the eye, seeing his unshockable coach rear back slightly at Viktor’s sudden reaction. “You can’t keep sending me home on bad days. I’m not fragile, Yakov.”

Yakov studies him and Viktor is beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope before Yakov’s lip curls and some of the intensity leaves his expression.

“Then get out there are show me a clean short program,” he says simply.

Determination floods Viktor’s body then. He skates through his short program three times until his legs are wobbling with fatigue and fever.

By the time he arrives back at their flat that night - following a brutal dance class with Lilia and a conditioning session at the gym - he’s so exhausted that he flops down on the couch in his practice clothes and falls straight asleep, barely registering Makkachin’s skittering toenails on the hardwood floor.

~

Viktor can hear his name, can feel someone touching him, but everything feels like a haze. He tries to move away from the noise, tries to burrow beneath his pillow but he can’t because his pillow isn’t a pillow but he doesn’t know what it is. He feels sick.

“Vitya, please look at me,” says the voice and it’s Yuuri’s voice so Viktor opens his eyes and sees Yuuri’s beautiful face staring down at him, lined with concern.

Viktor blinks. He coughs.

Yuuri pulls him up by his arms, supporting him while he hacks, leaning so far forward that it’s only Yuuri’s strong arms that keep him from falling onto the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that Yuuri doesn’t know he’s sick yet but that thought disappears among the fog in his brain.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re burning,” Yuuri whispers but Viktor wants to tell him no, he’s freezing. “We need to get your fever down. Can you stay here for me?”

Viktor doesn’t get a chance to answer but Yuuri is gone and Viktor can’t breathe without him. He doesn’t want Yuuri to leave. Viktor clutches weakly at the hem of his t-shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists anxiously.

And then Yuuri’s hands are cupping his face and his thumbs are brushing away the tears and his lips are kissing his forehead and it feels so nice.

“It’s alright, Vitka,” Yuuri says, voice smooth like honey. He presses a cloth against Viktor’s forehead and it’s miraculously cool. Yuuri gently dabs the cloth all over Viktor’s forehead and his cheeks, muttering, “hush now. You must be feeling miserable. It’s okay. You’ll feel better soon.”

Viktor initially shies away when Yuuri raises the thermometer but opens his mouth to accept it after a brief moment of embarrassment. Yuuri keeps talking. His voice is gentle like Viktor knew it would be. He wants to cry. This isn’t how things were supposed to be. He was supposed to train and improve and fight for this last season and instead he’s crying in his apartment with Yuuri, his Yuuri, trying to soothe his fever like he’s a child.

He’s been stupid, Viktor realises. He keeps crying.

Yuuri doesn’t tell him what the thermometer says but his expression says enough: not good.

“You should have told me,” is what Yuuri says instead and all Viktor can do is hold his arms out, begging for Yuuri to come close. And Yuuri does.

Yuuri pulls Viktor into his lap even though Viktor is taller than him with his long limbs and pointy joints. But Yuuri doesn’t seem to care about that so Viktor just revels in being held. He buries his face in Yuuri’s neck and relaxes. Because Yuuri is here now and there’s nothing to hide anymore. Hiding it was stupid in the first place.

“That’s it. I’ve got you,” Yuuri says quietly as his hands rub up and down Viktor’s back. “Now, when you’ve calmed down we’re going to get you some medicine and into some clean pyjamas and then I think you should go to bed.”

Viktor nods. “You’ll come with me?”

The request is innocent and Yuuri’s lack of suggestive joke seems to suggest that he understands that. Normally, Viktor loves the camaraderie they’ve developed in their relationship; the back and forth banter and inside jokes and exaggerated flirtatious expressions before they collapse into laughter. Yuuri is absolutely Viktor’s best friend in the whole wide world.

“Of course,” Yuuri says earnestly. “But medicine first, okay?”

Viktor croaks out a pitiful agreement before Yuuri goes to fetch some fever reducer which Viktor takes without a fuss though swallowing the little pills hurts his throat, even with the water. But Yuuri rewards him with a kiss on the cheek so he supposes it isn’t all bad.

“Come on,” Yuuri says as he pulls Viktor to his feet and drags him into their bedroom.

Makkachin lifts her head from the bed where she’d clearly been snoozing and wags her tail, sniffing inquisitively at Viktor’s hand when Yuuri deposits him next to her.

“Hey, girl,” he says hoarsely, giggling when she licks his hand (it tickles!). But the giggling quickly turns into a wrenching cough and by the time it’s finished, he’s certain he’s lost a lung and maybe also his liver because everything hurts.

Yuuri hands Viktor a clean pair of pyjama pants and says, “let’s get you out of those sweaty clothes, hm?”

Once Viktor is clad only in his plaid pyjama pants, Yuuri gently nudges Makkachin to the side and settles him under the duvet.

“Is that better?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor smiles sheepishly and nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, biting his lip. “I-”

But Yuuri anticipates his apology and holds up his hand. “I know. We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling a bit better, okay?”

Yuuri climbs into bed next to Viktor and pulls his sick fiancé close until he’s comfortably settled against him.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Yuuri says but Viktor doesn’t think he’s looking for a proper answer so he just hums because he knows. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor hums again. He knows that too.

[legandaryharry]

Cruel world

Where Harry goes away for a couple days and y/n gets back into her old ways 

Request: Could you do one where him finds out about the readers drug addiction and helps her 

trigger: drug use

A/N: I am so sorry I didn’t post yesterday and didn’t post till later tonight. I was extremely sick yesterday and still didn’t feel the best today till tonight. Tomorrow will be back to normal and I will post early. I hope you guys like this imagine and always remember to requests and leave feed back. Also if any of you guys are going through a drug addiction I beg of you please get help it is not worth it. enjoy

Before Harry and I were together something I never had the courage to tell him about was my drug addiction. It all started is when I surrounded myself with the wrong people and tried heroin for the first time. I did it here and there in high school but it became a huge problem when I got into college. These group of people I followed all the way too college and made more friends who were addicted also. At that time in my life I didn’t care about school, my family, my job nothing was worth it but this drug. I was doing so bad at school at one point that I was dropped and could not return back. I was completely devastated but understand why and at that moment I knew I had to get help to make any type of life for myself. So I sent myself to rehab and got out about 6 months later. When I got out I felt like an all new me a new person. Yes the withdraw was so horrible and never would want someone to go through something like that. It’s been about 3 years since then and 2 years since Harry and I have been together.

But recently I’ve gotten back into it. Yes I know I am dumb and yes I know it is bad. I’ve just been very stressed and have had a lot on my mind. I just recently rekindled my relationship with one of the girls from the old group. I found out she was still doing it and never got help like I did. At first I wasn’t even into talking to her let alone do dope. But when Harry went away for a few days for a business trip I decided to invite her over. When she came one thing lead to another and we both ended up getting high.

 This went on for days and probably was the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Yes Harry makes me so unbelievably Happy but doing Heroin is so much different. It’s a different type of love in your life. I felt like shit when I knew this might ruin not just my life but Harry’s life too and it might ruin our relationship. I knew when he would come back I would have to slow down so he would not suspect anything.

 Harry would be coming off the plain at 7:00 am and knew he would be home probably around 8. So I would have a couple hours to get high and come down so I still would be a little bit stimulated before he came back. It was about 8:07 am when I heard the front door slam and heard foot steps and my name to be called. I slowly walked down the steps and was pretty nervous and worried that Harry would notice something was off about me. I wore the long sleeve so Harry wouldn’t notice the needle markings. When I reached the bottom of the stairs I saw him standing in the kitchen looking in the fridge for some food.

 “Hey y/n! Finally you’re here, I missed you so much” Harry says and walks over to me and wraps his arms around me and gives me a kiss on the top of my head. 

 “I missed you so much too Harry” I say hugging him back and digging my head into his chest 

 “How was your trip?“I ask Harry and pull apart to look at him "It was good but boring, the usual” Harry says and shrugs his and puts his hand on my cheek 

“You look kinda pale love, is there something wrong? Are you sick?” Harry says and looks at my face very deeply 

 “Ugh I had a little cold when you were gone but I’m better now” I say and giving him a smile, showing him he doesn’t need to worry 

 “Oh okay that’s good that you are better now” Harry’s yes retiring the smile back 

 “Hey how about we get some snacks and watch a movie together” Harry says grabbing my hand and guiding me to the kitchen 

 “Yes that sounds like a good idea” I say and picking out a few things from the cabinet He grab the food and walk to our living room and plant each other on the sofa. We turned on some random movie that we both seemed interesting on Netflix. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. All I could sit here and think about the feeling of it running through my veins. I just wanted to feel that rush one more time today. I promised myself earlier that I was done for the day but I am literally dying inside to just have one more hit. I decide half way through the movie that I would excuse myself to the bathroom and just take one hit to hold me over but not get me too high where I’m falling over. I still wanna seem like me when I’m around Harry. 

 “He babe I gotten run to the bathroom” I say getting up off the sofa 

 “Okay baby, we’ll get back soon” Harry says while giving me a smile 

I run up the stars till I got to the bathroom door and shut it and locked it behind me. I pulled out all the instruments getting ready and trying to hurry. I heat it up and wrap my arm up tight. I find a vein and inject it into my arm and push down. 

“God that feels so good” I whisper to myself trying to keep my stance steady 

I don’t really understand what is going on or what my body is going through but something in my head is telling me I need more. At this point I just don’t even care I just need more. I don’t care about Harry or anything I just want more. I start to inject more till I realize it’s been 15 minutes. Thank god Harry hasn’t came up to check on me or anything. I started to do even more till I was on the floor slowly closing my eyes till I was completely black out. 

 P.O.V Harry 

Where is y/n I thought to myself? It’s been like 30 minutes is something wrong? I run up the stairs deciding to check on her and see if she maybe sick or something. When I reach the bathroom I can tell the light is still on but I don’t hear and sound. I put my ear up to the door and still hear nothing. 

“Y/n are you in there? are you okay?” I yell and knock on the door a couple times but hear no response

I walk over to check our bedroom but still she isn’t in there. I call her name out in the hall way but no response. I decide to maybe check under the bathroom door and see if she is in there but doesn’t wanna talk. When I do I am so shocked, All i can see is a slight image of y/n laying on the floor. I put my foot up to the door and lean back and kick my foot into the door as hard as I can. This goes on a couple times till the door busts open. When I reach behind the door I am so shocked to see y/n passed laying on the ground and so confused. When I wrap my arms around her I shake her a bit.

“Y/N Y/N! WAKE UP!” I try to shake her more but nothing happens

I look at around her till my eyes land on a small bag of some type of black powder. Then it hits me 

“y/n is doing drugs, she must of passed out or worse had an over dose” I say picking her body up and run her downstairs to the car

I put her in the passenger seat and get on my side. I drive out there the fastest I can to get her some help. Y/n means so much to me dearly and never expected this to happen to us in our relationship. I knew something was up with her since I got home. 

First she wasn’t waiting for me downstairs at the front door like she usually does. Second she seemed really pale and very sweaty. Third she was so fidgety, she would not stop rocking her leg or tapping her fingers none stop like something was on her mind.

When I arrived at the emergency room I stopped the car and ran to her side yelling for help from the nurses. They came rushing to me with a wheel chair and pushed her inside

“What is wrong with her sir?” One of the nurses ask me

“I don’t know exactly? I think she overdosed on heroin” I say just feeling all this sadness rush through me

“Okay we are gonna take her off to room 566 and we will tell you what will happen” The nurse says and wheels y/n away from me

How could I even let this happen I mean I thought we were pretty happy together I never expected this at all. At this point I just hope she’s okay and wakes up, that’s what is important right now. 

5 hours go by and I did sleep in this chair for about 4 to get my mind off of things. No one has came to tell me anything about y/n and I’m getting kinda worried. What if she won’t wake up? What if I will lose her forever? I can’t lose the love of my life? I will be completely ruined! I want me and y/n to live a long happy life together. 

As I sit here worrying out so badly I see a nurse walk her way up to me.

“She is awake and ready to see you” She says smiling and ready to lead the way

I don’t say anything and just follow her. The walk is a bit far but its okay all I wanna do is reach y/n. When I do I get a bit nervous of opening the door and seeing what kind of condition she is in. When I open it and walk over to her she is laying there with her eyes closed. She does have a bit more color back in her skin but she doesn’t fully look like my y/n. \

“Y/n baby are you awake” I say to her and rub her arm

When I do her eyes slowly open and look at me

“My baby boy Harry, I missed you” y/n says and smiles at me

“I missed you too, I was worried about you” I say smiling back

“I am so sorry what I just put us through” y/n says and looks down till a tear runs down her face

“No baby, its okay” I say and get a bit closer to her

“I don’t wanna be this way, I wanna be happy and live a long life with you” y/n says and starts to get upset

“I don’t want you to live this way either baby” I say and getting upset with her and rub a tear away off her check “I think we need to get you some help” 

“Yes I think also”y/n says and shifts over and makes room for me

I crawl in next to her and she rests her head on my chest

“I will always love you and be here for you y/n” I say rubbing her head

“I love you also Harry, I am so lucky to have you” y/n says and kisses my neck

we both lay our heads down and stay silent and both drift off to sleep.

[sweatygardencollectorblr]

After more than a week of protests against police brutality and unrest that left parts of the city burned, a growing chorus of elected officials, civic leaders and residents in Minneapolis are urging the city to break up the Police Department and reimagine the way policing works."We are going to dismantle the Minneapolis Police Department," Jeremiah Ellison, a member of the City Council, said on Twitter this week. "And when we're done, we're not simply gonna glue it back together," he added. "We are going to dramatically rethink how we approach public safety and emergency response."At least three others, including the City Council president, Lisa Bender, have also called for taking the Police Department apart.Minneapolis is not the only city asking the question. Across the country, calls to defund, downsize or abolish police departments are gaining new traction after national unrest following the death of George Floyd, a black man who died after a white police officer pressed a knee into his neck for nearly nine minutes on a busy Minneapolis street.On Wednesday, Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles announced that he would cut as much as $150 million from a planned increase in the Police Department's budget. And in New York, Corey Johnson, the City Council speaker, and Daniel Dromm, a council member from Queens, vowed even before the latest protests to cut the Police Department's $6 billion budget, which they noted had been left almost untouched even as education and youth programs faced steep cuts.The calls to redirect money away from the police come as cities face steep budget shortfalls because of the economic fallout from the coronavirus, and as public anger against police brutality has roiled the country. Redirecting funding is one of the few levers that elected officials have over the police, who are frequently shielded by powerful unions and labor arbitrators who reinstate officers fired for misconduct.Dromm, chair of the city's finance committee, said that in order to restore some funding to youth programs he was considering a delay in the next class of police cadets and scrutinizing the $700 million in police overtime that has been budgeted for this year. He said the events of recent days -- including police officers' treatment of peaceful protesters -- had shown that years of efforts to reform the department had not succeeded."The culture in the New York City Police Department has not changed," he said. "The white shirts, the commanding officers, they kind of get it and talk the talk, but the average beat cop doesn't believe in it and we've seen this over and over again."In Minneapolis, calls to dismantle the police are likely to further demoralize a force that already is reeling from the killing of Floyd, the criminal charges filed against four former officers, looting in the city and the burning of a police precinct."That's not the answer," said Gwen Gunter, a retired lieutenant of the Minneapolis Police Department who is also a member of a black police officers association."There's a part of me that hopes they do succeed," she said, "because I want to see how long it takes before they say, 'Oh, no we do need a Police Department.'"The Minneapolis police chief, Medaria Arradondo, pledged Friday to "continue to work on efforts to improve public trust, public safety and transformational culture change of the MPD." His statement did not address the recent calls to dismantle the department.Those who support the movement to scale back the responsibilities of the police say officers frequently abuse their power and instigate violence rather than prevent it. They say many social welfare tasks that currently fall to armed police officers -- responding to drug overdoses and working with people who have a mental illness or are homeless -- would be better carried out by nurses or social workers.One model that members of the Minneapolis City Council cite is Cahoots, a nonprofit mobile crisis intervention program that has handled mental health calls in Eugene, Oregon, since 1989. Cahoots employees responded to more than 24,000 calls for service last year -- about 20% of the area's 911 calls -- on a budget of about $2 million, probably far less than what it would have cost the Police Department to do the work, said Tim Black, the program's operations coordinator."There's a strong argument to be made from a fiscally conservative perspective," Black said. "Public safety institutions generally have these massive budgets and there's questions about what they are doing."But handing over one aspect of police work is not a panacea. Eugene has had at least two officers shoot people in the past year.Last year, after a campaign by a group called Durham Beyond Policing, the City Council in Durham, North Carolina, voted against hiring 18 new police officers and began discussing a "community safety and wellness task force" instead.Minneapolis took a step in that direction last year when it redirected funding for eight new police officers into a new office for violence prevention."We have an opportunity to reimagine what the future of public safety looks like," said Steve Fletcher, a City Council member who pushed that effort. But he acknowledged that the effort to build a viable alternative to the police on social and mental health issues would take years and that no one could be sure what it would look like in the end."It's very easy as an activist to call for the abolishment of the police," said Fletcher, himself a former activist who protested a 2015 police shooting. "It is a heavier decision when you realize that it's your constituents that are going to be the victims of crime you can't respond to if you dismantle that without an alternative."Black activists in the city have been calling for the police to be dismantled for years, issuing a report in 2018 that argued that the oppression of poor people and black people was baked into the very founding of the department in 1867. Police reform has roiled politics in the city for years, and politicians who have been seen as slow to reform have been defeated. But only recently have calls to dismantle the police been widely embraced by white leaders in the city.In Linden Hills, a predominantly white Minneapolis neighborhood near a golf course and two lakes that has not seen very many of the overly aggressive police tactics that the city's black residents complain about, residents acknowledge that the department needs to be significantly reformed. But they have been leery of pledges to abolish the police."What does that even mean?" asked Steve Birch, the chair of the Linden Hills Neighborhood Council. "Then who provides the public service of policing? I don't even know how to answer that."But in Kingfield, a neighborhood in South Minneapolis not far from where Floyd died, Chris DesRoches, the president of the neighborhood association, said he supported defunding the department."The killing of George Floyd has opened the eyes of people to the worst case scenario of police," he said, adding that the case has created an opportunity "for white people to start hearing what communities of color and community leaders have been saying all along, which is that the police are an organization which has been actively harmful to our communities."Mayor Jacob Frey has said he does not support calls to dismantle the department. On Friday, City Council members voted to accept a civil rights investigation by the Minnesota Department of Human Rights and to adopt updates to the Police Department's use of force policy that include a ban on chokeholds. The topic of eliminating some of the department's functions was not discussed.Still, council members acknowledged during their debate that something had changed fundamentally in the way that city residents view the police. The University of Minnesota, as well as the school board and the parks department in Minneapolis, decided in recent days to cut ties with the Police Department.Many in Minneapolis have said that Floyd's death provided a stark illustration of how far efforts to institute reforms in the wake of the 2015 police shooting of Jamar Clark, a 24-year-old African American man, had fallen short.After that shooting, police officers received implicit bias training and body cameras. The department appointed its first black police chief. Community policing was emphasized. Policies were rewritten to include a "duty to intervene" if an officer saw a colleague endangering a member of the public -- a policy that was key to the swift firing and arrest of the four officers involved in Floyd's death.But those reforms were not sufficient to prevent Floyd's death."The fact that none of the officers took the initiative to follow the policy to intervene, it just became really clear to me that this system wasn't going to work, no matter how much we threw at it," said Alondra Cano, who heads the City Council's public safety committee.Cano, who says she was part of a "prosecute the police" campaign while she was a college student, acknowledged that it might take years to build viable alternatives. But she said many city residents, some of whom have formed mutual protection neighborhood groups in the wake of the unrest, were ready to try."There's a moment of deep commitment that I've never seen before, and that gives me leave as an elected official to start experimenting with other systems," she said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company

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[beautytipsfor]

Cities Ask if It's Time to Defund Police and 'Reimagine' Public Safety

After more than a week of protests against police brutality and unrest that left parts of the city burned, a growing chorus of elected officials, civic leaders and residents in Minneapolis are urging the city to break up the Police Department and reimagine the way policing works."We are going to dismantle the Minneapolis Police Department," Jeremiah Ellison, a member of the City Council, said on Twitter this week. "And when we're done, we're not simply gonna glue it back together," he added. "We are going to dramatically rethink how we approach public safety and emergency response."At least three others, including the City Council president, Lisa Bender, have also called for taking the Police Department apart.Minneapolis is not the only city asking the question. Across the country, calls to defund, downsize or abolish police departments are gaining new traction after national unrest following the death of George Floyd, a black man who died after a white police officer pressed a knee into his neck for nearly nine minutes on a busy Minneapolis street.On Wednesday, Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles announced that he would cut as much as $150 million from a planned increase in the Police Department's budget. And in New York, Corey Johnson, the City Council speaker, and Daniel Dromm, a council member from Queens, vowed even before the latest protests to cut the Police Department's $6 billion budget, which they noted had been left almost untouched even as education and youth programs faced steep cuts.The calls to redirect money away from the police come as cities face steep budget shortfalls because of the economic fallout from the coronavirus, and as public anger against police brutality has roiled the country. Redirecting funding is one of the few levers that elected officials have over the police, who are frequently shielded by powerful unions and labor arbitrators who reinstate officers fired for misconduct.Dromm, chair of the city's finance committee, said that in order to restore some funding to youth programs he was considering a delay in the next class of police cadets and scrutinizing the $700 million in police overtime that has been budgeted for this year. He said the events of recent days -- including police officers' treatment of peaceful protesters -- had shown that years of efforts to reform the department had not succeeded."The culture in the New York City Police Department has not changed," he said. "The white shirts, the commanding officers, they kind of get it and talk the talk, but the average beat cop doesn't believe in it and we've seen this over and over again."In Minneapolis, calls to dismantle the police are likely to further demoralize a force that already is reeling from the killing of Floyd, the criminal charges filed against four former officers, looting in the city and the burning of a police precinct."That's not the answer," said Gwen Gunter, a retired lieutenant of the Minneapolis Police Department who is also a member of a black police officers association."There's a part of me that hopes they do succeed," she said, "because I want to see how long it takes before they say, 'Oh, no we do need a Police Department.'"The Minneapolis police chief, Medaria Arradondo, pledged Friday to "continue to work on efforts to improve public trust, public safety and transformational culture change of the MPD." His statement did not address the recent calls to dismantle the department.Those who support the movement to scale back the responsibilities of the police say officers frequently abuse their power and instigate violence rather than prevent it. They say many social welfare tasks that currently fall to armed police officers -- responding to drug overdoses and working with people who have a mental illness or are homeless -- would be better carried out by nurses or social workers.One model that members of the Minneapolis City Council cite is Cahoots, a nonprofit mobile crisis intervention program that has handled mental health calls in Eugene, Oregon, since 1989. Cahoots employees responded to more than 24,000 calls for service last year -- about 20% of the area's 911 calls -- on a budget of about $2 million, probably far less than what it would have cost the Police Department to do the work, said Tim Black, the program's operations coordinator."There's a strong argument to be made from a fiscally conservative perspective," Black said. "Public safety institutions generally have these massive budgets and there's questions about what they are doing."But handing over one aspect of police work is not a panacea. Eugene has had at least two officers shoot people in the past year.Last year, after a campaign by a group called Durham Beyond Policing, the City Council in Durham, North Carolina, voted against hiring 18 new police officers and began discussing a "community safety and wellness task force" instead.Minneapolis took a step in that direction last year when it redirected funding for eight new police officers into a new office for violence prevention."We have an opportunity to reimagine what the future of public safety looks like," said Steve Fletcher, a City Council member who pushed that effort. But he acknowledged that the effort to build a viable alternative to the police on social and mental health issues would take years and that no one could be sure what it would look like in the end."It's very easy as an activist to call for the abolishment of the police," said Fletcher, himself a former activist who protested a 2015 police shooting. "It is a heavier decision when you realize that it's your constituents that are going to be the victims of crime you can't respond to if you dismantle that without an alternative."Black activists in the city have been calling for the police to be dismantled for years, issuing a report in 2018 that argued that the oppression of poor people and black people was baked into the very founding of the department in 1867. Police reform has roiled politics in the city for years, and politicians who have been seen as slow to reform have been defeated. But only recently have calls to dismantle the police been widely embraced by white leaders in the city.In Linden Hills, a predominantly white Minneapolis neighborhood near a golf course and two lakes that has not seen very many of the overly aggressive police tactics that the city's black residents complain about, residents acknowledge that the department needs to be significantly reformed. But they have been leery of pledges to abolish the police."What does that even mean?" asked Steve Birch, the chair of the Linden Hills Neighborhood Council. "Then who provides the public service of policing? I don't even know how to answer that."But in Kingfield, a neighborhood in South Minneapolis not far from where Floyd died, Chris DesRoches, the president of the neighborhood association, said he supported defunding the department."The killing of George Floyd has opened the eyes of people to the worst case scenario of police," he said, adding that the case has created an opportunity "for white people to start hearing what communities of color and community leaders have been saying all along, which is that the police are an organization which has been actively harmful to our communities."Mayor Jacob Frey has said he does not support calls to dismantle the department. On Friday, City Council members voted to accept a civil rights investigation by the Minnesota Department of Human Rights and to adopt updates to the Police Department's use of force policy that include a ban on chokeholds. The topic of eliminating some of the department's functions was not discussed.Still, council members acknowledged during their debate that something had changed fundamentally in the way that city residents view the police. The University of Minnesota, as well as the school board and the parks department in Minneapolis, decided in recent days to cut ties with the Police Department.Many in Minneapolis have said that Floyd's death provided a stark illustration of how far efforts to institute reforms in the wake of the 2015 police shooting of Jamar Clark, a 24-year-old African American man, had fallen short.After that shooting, police officers received implicit bias training and body cameras. The department appointed its first black police chief. Community policing was emphasized. Policies were rewritten to include a "duty to intervene" if an officer saw a colleague endangering a member of the public -- a policy that was key to the swift firing and arrest of the four officers involved in Floyd's death.But those reforms were not sufficient to prevent Floyd's death."The fact that none of the officers took the initiative to follow the policy to intervene, it just became really clear to me that this system wasn't going to work, no matter how much we threw at it," said Alondra Cano, who heads the City Council's public safety committee.Cano, who says she was part of a "prosecute the police" campaign while she was a college student, acknowledged that it might take years to build viable alternatives. But she said many city residents, some of whom have formed mutual protection neighborhood groups in the wake of the unrest, were ready to try."There's a moment of deep commitment that I've never seen before, and that gives me leave as an elected official to start experimenting with other systems," she said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company

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[raptorsschedule-blog]

Connection between Nick Nurse, Phil Jackson helped shape current Raptors

Nick Nurse and Phil Jackson share some common bonds.

They each travelled an unusual path to become NBA head coaches. They each won a championship very early in their careers — Nurse in his first season with the Toronto Raptors and Jackson in his second season with the Chicago Bulls in 1991.

And they each coached Dennis Rodman.

Jackson might have gotten the better of that deal. The former Bulls and Los Angeles Lakers bench boss had the Hall-of-Fame forward on his roster for Chicago’s second ‘three-peat,’ as has been documented during the Last Dance, the 10-part documentary of the last season of Michael Jordan’s Bulls dynasty which is approaching its conclusion.

Read Here: Toronto Raptors Schedule

Nurse had Rodman for three games with the Brighton Bears of the British Basketball League as part of a promotion when the former Bulls star was a 44-year-old cast member in the UK version of Celebrity Big Brother, but the Raptors head coach’s connection to Jackson and the Bulls runs much deeper than that and its reflected in the Raptors today.

Once of the first things Nurse did when he was made Raptors head coach in the summer of 2018 was reach out to Jackson through Raptors health and performance guru Alex McKechnie, who was on Jackson’s Lakers staff.

Nurse met Jackson near his summer retreat on Flathead Lake in northern Montana for coffee and ended up spending three days with one of his coaching idols.

“I get there, we go have a cup of coffee and he says ‘Hop in my truck’ and we drive around the lake for a couple hours,” says Nurse. “I’m just kind of sitting there with the windows down going, ‘Wow.’”

It was a case of a first-year NBA head coach not only leveraging his relationships to meet with one of the most respected minds in the sport, but a full-circle moment.

“I mean, really he was a guy I certainly looked up to and learned a lot from even though he didn’t know it,” says Nurse. “…I studied his substitutions, his timeouts, his late-game stuff, his demeanor, his belief in having a system, his ability to give players freedom, his belief in pressure defence. There’s a lot of things there.”

When Nurse was starting out as a head coach in the British Basketball League, Jordan, Jackson and the Bulls were ascendant. During that pre-digital age, Nurse signed up for a subscription service that would deliver week-old VHS tapes of NBA games — in this case, Bulls games — and Nurse would wear them out, watching and rewinding, stopping and starting.

Jackson was putting on a coaching clinic and Nurse never missed a class.

He took Jackson’s vaunted triangle offence apart, possession by possession, figured it out and eventually installed it with his BBL teams, informing his approach for the rest of his career.

“I think back about what my philosophy was and I would say I didn’t know what it was. I was 25, 26 years old and had maybe cobbled up a few set plays from here and there — we ran this offence in college, ran some stuff at Grand View [University, where Nurse as an assistant coach before heading to England], but I never had [a system].

“[But] I was in a unique situation. I was coaching a low level of professional basketball and was able to try a lot of stuff and I had a working lab or whatever, and I guess that when I watched [the triangle] it appealed to me,” he says. “I liked the beauty of it and I fully installed it as my offensive philosophy after studying it and we ran it all the time for, I dunno, eight or nine years.”

In some ways he’s never not run it.

Nurse says the Raptors have some sets now that have their roots in the offence perfected by longtime Jackson assistant Tex Winter that demands precise spacing and all five players making reads as one and moving the ball accordingly.

When the Raptors played an exhibition game in New Orleans on the eve of the 2018-19 season shortly after Winters passed away, the Raptors won 134-119, even with most of their starters at home in Toronto.

“We got basket after basket after basket out of it.”

The current emphasis on three-point shooting and attacks on the rim has made post-play secondary — in contrast with the triangle, where the first option was a low-post entry — but otherwise, Nurse says, a lot of the same principles apply with how the Raptors play now, with maximum spacing, off-ball player movement and constantly looking to flow into the next action rather than getting bogged down in one-on-one isolations against set defences.

“It certainly had much more beauty than what everybody else was doing [in the ’90s]: Coming down and throwing it into the centre and kind trying to muscle up a low-post shot and three guys standing on the other side of the floor,” says Nurse.

“Everybody is gonna touch the ball. I think that was the main thing, everybody got to touch the ball and it fed into my overall philosophy that it’s just a more fun way for guys to play and guys run better, cut harder and play better defence and rebound better because they are a part of the offence.

“And then you start getting into it and the mad scientist part [is fun]. It’s ‘Oh my God this is complicated,’ and there’s so many options [with the triangle] and that even kind of added to the allure or aura or whatever the word is you know?

“That you’re tackling this thing that everybody thinks is super mysterious and you know all that kind of stuff. So that was kind of interesting too.”

Running the triangle had a side benefit when Rodman arrived in the UK for his TV appearance. A connection was made and the then 44-year-old Rodman’s services were secured for a three-game run with Brighton in January of 2006.

“It was awesome, it really was. First of all, it’s probably hard to explain the phenomenon. There was like 185 [media] credentials vs. maybe two for a normal game, so it was a pretty big spectacle and again, we were running the triangle and he comes in and throws a backdoor pass our first possession for a layup then he takes a charge the very next one down the court and the place is going bonkers. It was just cool. He was really smart. It was neat.”

Getting to compare notes with Jackson a couple of summers ago even more so.

“It was, it was beyond my expectations, it really was,” says Nurse. “He was gracious, he was funny, he was thoughtful. Obviously the other stuff everybody knows, he’s super intelligent.

“I’d ask him a question and I’d get the answer like 90 minutes later and he’d go through a historical tract to get there, but after the first couple when I felt out the rhythm of the communication, I really liked it and appreciated that rhythm, you know? It was so interesting, almost like going through the history of basketball.”

Nurse sees other parallels as he looks back at the Bulls and Jackson through the prism of the Jordan documentary. Just as the Bulls were able to remain a championship contender in the season after Jordan retired to play baseball — Chicago won 55 games in 1993-94 — the Raptors have been able to thrive in their post-championship season even in the absence of Kawhi Leonard, who drew Jordan comparisons for his dominance in the 2019 playoffs.

A commitment to a team-oriented system — similar in philosophy to what was espoused by Jackson — has carried the day. The Raptors were on a 59-win pace when play was suspended, slightly ahead of the 58-24 record they achieved in the regular season a year ago.

“It’s eerily similar. Right? You could almost say Pascal’s Pippen, and I guess that the need to run it with a little better structure, a little better execution to keep the offence to where you’re accustomed to it being on the whole,” says Nurse. “You’ve heard a lot of those guys in the Last Dance talk about it, I think that, again, five guys being integral parts of the offence like we like to run it now — ours is less of a triangle and more of a big, spaced out square — but it got better over the year and then they’re in a situation where now there’s more opportunities for them.

“We may not have one guy like Kawhi that can go and get you a bucket but I will say we have so many more weapons now — even though they’re virtually the same guys — because they just had so many more reps and now they see more opportunities and they aren’t deferring, they aren’t saying ‘I better get this back to Michael [Or Leonard]’ they make their read and they go and make a play.”

It’s an approach that Jackson doubtless could only be impressed with.

The hope now is circumstances can evolve to the point that the NBA can return to action and Nurse can see how far this version of the Raptors can go.

[sweatygardencollectorblr]

After more than a week of protests against police brutality and unrest that left parts of the city burned, a growing chorus of elected officials, civic leaders and residents in Minneapolis are urging the city to break up the Police Department and reimagine the way policing works."We are going to dismantle the Minneapolis Police Department," Jeremiah Ellison, a member of the City Council, said on Twitter this week. "And when we're done, we're not simply gonna glue it back together," he added. "We are going to dramatically rethink how we approach public safety and emergency response."At least three others, including the City Council president, Lisa Bender, have also called for taking the Police Department apart.Minneapolis is not the only city asking the question. Across the country, calls to defund, downsize or abolish police departments are gaining new traction after national unrest following the death of George Floyd, a black man who died after a white police officer pressed a knee into his neck for nearly nine minutes on a busy Minneapolis street.On Wednesday, Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles announced that he would cut as much as $150 million from a planned increase in the Police Department's budget. And in New York, Corey Johnson, the City Council speaker, and Daniel Dromm, a council member from Queens, vowed even before the latest protests to cut the Police Department's $6 billion budget, which they noted had been left almost untouched even as education and youth programs faced steep cuts.The calls to redirect money away from the police come as cities face steep budget shortfalls because of the economic fallout from the coronavirus, and as public anger against police brutality has roiled the country. Redirecting funding is one of the few levers that elected officials have over the police, who are frequently shielded by powerful unions and labor arbitrators who reinstate officers fired for misconduct.Dromm, chair of the city's finance committee, said that in order to restore some funding to youth programs he was considering a delay in the next class of police cadets and scrutinizing the $700 million in police overtime that has been budgeted for this year. He said the events of recent days -- including police officers' treatment of peaceful protesters -- had shown that years of efforts to reform the department had not succeeded."The culture in the New York City Police Department has not changed," he said. "The white shirts, the commanding officers, they kind of get it and talk the talk, but the average beat cop doesn't believe in it and we've seen this over and over again."In Minneapolis, calls to dismantle the police are likely to further demoralize a force that already is reeling from the killing of Floyd, the criminal charges filed against four former officers, looting in the city and the burning of a police precinct."That's not the answer," said Gwen Gunter, a retired lieutenant of the Minneapolis Police Department who is also a member of a black police officers association."There's a part of me that hopes they do succeed," she said, "because I want to see how long it takes before they say, 'Oh, no we do need a Police Department.'"The Minneapolis police chief, Medaria Arradondo, pledged Friday to "continue to work on efforts to improve public trust, public safety and transformational culture change of the MPD." His statement did not address the recent calls to dismantle the department.Those who support the movement to scale back the responsibilities of the police say officers frequently abuse their power and instigate violence rather than prevent it. They say many social welfare tasks that currently fall to armed police officers -- responding to drug overdoses and working with people who have a mental illness or are homeless -- would be better carried out by nurses or social workers.One model that members of the Minneapolis City Council cite is Cahoots, a nonprofit mobile crisis intervention program that has handled mental health calls in Eugene, Oregon, since 1989. Cahoots employees responded to more than 24,000 calls for service last year -- about 20% of the area's 911 calls -- on a budget of about $2 million, probably far less than what it would have cost the Police Department to do the work, said Tim Black, the program's operations coordinator."There's a strong argument to be made from a fiscally conservative perspective," Black said. "Public safety institutions generally have these massive budgets and there's questions about what they are doing."But handing over one aspect of police work is not a panacea. Eugene has had at least two officers shoot people in the past year.Last year, after a campaign by a group called Durham Beyond Policing, the City Council in Durham, North Carolina, voted against hiring 18 new police officers and began discussing a "community safety and wellness task force" instead.Minneapolis took a step in that direction last year when it redirected funding for eight new police officers into a new office for violence prevention."We have an opportunity to reimagine what the future of public safety looks like," said Steve Fletcher, a City Council member who pushed that effort. But he acknowledged that the effort to build a viable alternative to the police on social and mental health issues would take years and that no one could be sure what it would look like in the end."It's very easy as an activist to call for the abolishment of the police," said Fletcher, himself a former activist who protested a 2015 police shooting. "It is a heavier decision when you realize that it's your constituents that are going to be the victims of crime you can't respond to if you dismantle that without an alternative."Black activists in the city have been calling for the police to be dismantled for years, issuing a report in 2018 that argued that the oppression of poor people and black people was baked into the very founding of the department in 1867. Police reform has roiled politics in the city for years, and politicians who have been seen as slow to reform have been defeated. But only recently have calls to dismantle the police been widely embraced by white leaders in the city.In Linden Hills, a predominantly white Minneapolis neighborhood near a golf course and two lakes that has not seen very many of the overly aggressive police tactics that the city's black residents complain about, residents acknowledge that the department needs to be significantly reformed. But they have been leery of pledges to abolish the police."What does that even mean?" asked Steve Birch, the chair of the Linden Hills Neighborhood Council. "Then who provides the public service of policing? I don't even know how to answer that."But in Kingfield, a neighborhood in South Minneapolis not far from where Floyd died, Chris DesRoches, the president of the neighborhood association, said he supported defunding the department."The killing of George Floyd has opened the eyes of people to the worst case scenario of police," he said, adding that the case has created an opportunity "for white people to start hearing what communities of color and community leaders have been saying all along, which is that the police are an organization which has been actively harmful to our communities."Mayor Jacob Frey has said he does not support calls to dismantle the department. On Friday, City Council members voted to accept a civil rights investigation by the Minnesota Department of Human Rights and to adopt updates to the Police Department's use of force policy that include a ban on chokeholds. The topic of eliminating some of the department's functions was not discussed.Still, council members acknowledged during their debate that something had changed fundamentally in the way that city residents view the police. The University of Minnesota, as well as the school board and the parks department in Minneapolis, decided in recent days to cut ties with the Police Department.Many in Minneapolis have said that Floyd's death provided a stark illustration of how far efforts to institute reforms in the wake of the 2015 police shooting of Jamar Clark, a 24-year-old African American man, had fallen short.After that shooting, police officers received implicit bias training and body cameras. The department appointed its first black police chief. Community policing was emphasized. Policies were rewritten to include a "duty to intervene" if an officer saw a colleague endangering a member of the public -- a policy that was key to the swift firing and arrest of the four officers involved in Floyd's death.But those reforms were not sufficient to prevent Floyd's death."The fact that none of the officers took the initiative to follow the policy to intervene, it just became really clear to me that this system wasn't going to work, no matter how much we threw at it," said Alondra Cano, who heads the City Council's public safety committee.Cano, who says she was part of a "prosecute the police" campaign while she was a college student, acknowledged that it might take years to build viable alternatives. But she said many city residents, some of whom have formed mutual protection neighborhood groups in the wake of the unrest, were ready to try."There's a moment of deep commitment that I've never seen before, and that gives me leave as an elected official to start experimenting with other systems," she said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company

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