#AU: protect my heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamersbcll · 5 months

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Darling

but only you have shown me how to love being alive

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Soft kisses pressed against her skin, peppering her nose and covering her cheeks affectionately. If she moved slightly to the left, she could feel the warmth of a body curled into her ribs. She wrinkled her nose a bit, feeling the lips that pressed against her skin curl into a little smile.

Sam, without opening her eyes, pulled in her little sister, holding her to her chest. Tara squealed in surprise, then trailing into delighted giggles. She had her baby sister to her chest, breathing in the scent of coconut shampoo and lavender body lotion.

Heaven. Her little girl always smelled like heaven.

Slowly opening her eyes, she turned slightly to the right, blinking sleepily. The clock on her bedside table read 2:42 a.m. Huh. Early morning. Tara hated early mornings. Case in point, she was falling asleep against Sam’s body.

“Nena,” she whispered hoarsely, brushing hair out of Tara’s face.

Tara, not hearing her, continued to snore softly, her eyes fluttering.

She gently sat up, switching Tara’s position and cradling her little sister. Tara groaned in annoyance but gladly snuggled into the new position. Sam shook her head, grinning through the dark at the sleeping girl in her arms. Though Tara was nearly twenty-one, she was still her little; she always would be.

Sam gently pressed a kiss to Tara’s forehead, noting how Tara’s eyelashes fluttered in contentment. “Baby, wake up.”

“Mhmm?” Tara sighed, curling deeper into Sam’s chest.

“What are you doing awake?”

Tara paused, her breath catching in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, and though it was dark, the action was not lost on Sam. She frowned at the action, cupping Tara’s face.

“Honey.”

Her little sister cringed against Sam’s body. She knew that tone well- the one that meant Sam knew what she was hiding. It was the powers that came with being a big sister. Sam knew all and knew her little sister inside and out.

Breathing out, Tara curled a hand around the collar of Sam’s t-shirt. “I had a…nightmare, I guess.”

She pressed another kiss to her sister’s forehead, sighing. “Another one? Was it the same thing?”

Her little sister shook her head slightly. “No, it wasn’t about Her again. It was…” she paused, her voice caught in her throat.

“…It was about you. You left. Again,” Tara pushed out, using all the air in her lungs to utter words that tasted like poison.

Though her heart was heavy, and her chest ached in pain, Sam knew this wasn’t something she could afford to fall apart over. Her little sister had genuine, very valid fears- and as much as Sam would like to ignore her own flaws, she couldn’t. Tara was still afraid, still worried that Sam may choose anything else but her again. Sam had before, after all.

But that was before when all the pain weighed her down and forced her underneath the water— forcing her to admit that she was a sinner and deserved to suffer. Before Tara forgave her and before her little sister’s lips whispered You have to let me go.

Before Sam could scream back, how could she ever do that again?

Now it was after, and now was the time that the sisters let their walls down and admitted that the love never left between them; it was just hidden between their respective walls. Sam would never let her sister go again; she could never leave the arms that hugged her like she was worth all the trauma, panic, and grief that plagued their lives. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She cupped Tara’s face, her thumb brushing against her cheek. “Mi Cielo.”

Tara shook her head, turning away from Sam. Her little girl gently pushed Sam's arms off her, crawling out of her hold, and sat on the edge of the bed. Sam sighed at the action but let her sister sit, waiting for Tara to talk. Instead, she reached over and turned on the bedside light.

Sam opened her mouth, prepared to talk, apologize, and grovel for her sister’s forgiveness, but Tara cut her off before she could begin.

“No, Sam. Es una estupidez. Estás a mi lado en la cama. Sólo estoy siendo dramática. I’m just being stupid,” Tara whispered, her eyes averted from Sam’s.

Faltering, Sam frowned. “Hey, No. No eres dramática ni estúpida. I’m here, mi amor. Right here,” she whispered, reaching out to touch Tara’s shoulder.

Tara froze at the touch, her body ridged. “You weren’t then.”

Sam paused, moistening her lips. “No,” she said carefully, thinking over her following words. “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

She slightly squeezed Tara’s shoulder, noticing how Tara relaxed into the touch. “I won’t leave again, I promise.”

Her little sister stiffened, turning her body to face Sam. Sam’s arm slowly slid off Tara's shoulder, and she pulled it back, gently grazing her sister's skin. In the soft light, Sam could see tears shining in Tara’s eyes, her bottom lip trembling. Oh, her little girl. She just wanted to hold her. But Tara needed space, and she would respect that, even if it killed her.

Tara swallowed hard, speaking just above a whisper. “Even if I’m too much? ¿Incluso cuando soy quejica, ruidosa o mala? ¿Y si eso es el colmo? You can’t go. I won’t let you.”

Sam smiled. How could Tara ever think she was too much? Sam could never get enough of her.

“Mi Cielo.”

“Sammy,” Tara softly pleaded, her voice so heavy, so young, that it made Sam’s heartbreak.

She slowly got up, moving so she was sitting beside Tara. Gently, she put an arm around Tara’s body, letting her sister slowly relax into her side. She didn’t want to scare Tara, but she didn’t wish not to touch her either. All she wanted was to soothe her little sister’s fears like a big sister was supposed to.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and I. I promise you that—promesa de meñique. Siempre seremos tú y yo, hasta el final,” she said, squeezing Tara’s arm.

Tara paused, digesting Sam’s words. “Haste el final,” she slowly whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

There it was. That smile, that damn smile Sam loved like no other. It could light up continents and make the Sun in the sky jealous. She loved her little sister so much. So fucking much.

Humming, she pulled her sister in, letting Tara warp her arms around her midriff. “Honey, they will have constellations of us in the stars. They could never, ever tear us apart. To the end.”

“Te amo, Sammy,” Tara breathed, her fingertips ghosting across Sam’s ribs.

“Te amo, mi cielo,” Sam whispered back without hesitation.

Sam gently guided Tara back to the bed, letting her sister curl her head under her chin. As Tara drifted to sleep, Sam turned the light off, resting her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

“Haste el final,” she whispered, running a hand through Tara’s hair.

Whoever would try to spare them would have to beg for mercy that would never be granted— mercy that was never there in the first place.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #ao3 author #melissa barrera i love you #AU: protect my heart #we all deserve something soft and sweet today #and everyday

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 6 months

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<< First - < Prev - here - Next >

#rc9gn #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #torn pages au #randy cunningham #rc9gn first ninja #first ninja #rc9gn oc #it has begun....the ocs... they are coming!!!!#lol but no worries ill try to not make them too much of a focus #can u believe it? freakin 9 more pages holy sjiet. and we didnt even got to the actual idea i had im gonna cry #trying to be normal and not enjoy little dad things i make first ninja do ;3 #like helping kids dress cause waiting for them will take forever. the mom hand across body to protect them and the panic run.#the 'fuck the child took off without me' panic run is very familiar for me because i experience it from both sides #when i was a kid i accidently took off into traffic (on the crossing road but on yellow light) thinking my uncle was ahead #but in reality he was behind having a heart attack at my actions and taking off after me #and when i was a teen a family friend's kid i was looking after in the mall took off somewhere and i had a panic attack i lost him lol #his mother was NOT happy #kids? amiright?

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gelatosushix · 3 months

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Celebrating chapter 6 with more work on this WIP :o

#inumaki toge #digital sketch #jujutsu kaisen #heian era au #bodyguard au #under the blossom snow #inuokko #ottoge #toge x yuuta #toge in a kimono can have my heart #he looks like he needs to be protected #which yuta is realising he should…

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defectiveferalfreak · 1 year

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What Zim going to do with SpongeBob body parts ?

better question what wouldn't he do if given a chance

#nicktoons unite globs of doom #nicktoons unite GoD #invader zim #zim iz #dib membrane #sorry anon i literally forgot i got an ask but i remembered now! ;D #danny phantom #spongebob squarepants #timmy turner #jimmy neutron #im gonna call this #NU:GoDly AU #get it? cause ungodly? haha im hilarious. not #zim imitating Prof. Membrane because he considers him a best reference to 'trustworthy' human even tho he thinks Prof is completely bonkers #dib i just tired. always. no fucsk to give #Spongebob being a babey that others must protect despite being an adult is something i hold very close to my heart #danny is particularly pissed and protective because both Zim and Dib give him greymorality scientists vibes and he aint about that!#timmy just realizing that jimmy and others with their science are even more crazy than he and his magic

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spotsupstuff · 5 months

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Iterators, of course, aren't made capable of resting. They are here to work.

Even if biological to a degree, the components of the Hiveminds either take careful turns for a shut eye or they work themselves to death from exhaustion. Terrifying-, is Three Sparrows' opinion on that, -but they can't live any differently. Just like moths without mouths or crazed fish fighting against the streams of oceans, that's just how their Cycles are predetermined.

But there's these few rare days... Especially with the newer Iterators- those that are still chugging through life like newborn rain deer fawns, unsure in their existence, a little too vulnerable- when they slow down for a thorough, long debug session.

For the citizens this means a little dimmer day. A little bit of detoxification from screens as nonessential devices shut down or receive far too little power from the hearts of the Iterator. As those beats slow down and the energy that does get generated from them is more focused internally.

For her, as his Mechanic, this means an especially busy couple of days. Anxiety inducing ones, too.

First thing in the morning of the first day, Sparrows sends her charge a question- "how did the debug start up go?"- then remembers that the drama queen that is Caper of Euros does not wish to be bothered to formulate as horrendous things as whole words at this stage, because, in his words: "You don't understand just how *draining* it is to put together syllables in such a state!". So she adds a little unprofessional "doin good?" supplement message right after.

It takes unnaturally long for him to respond (twenty whole seconds!!!) with a singular checkmark. She breathes a sigh of relief and allows herself to go about her day now.

The city of Ales keeps relatively quiet. The typical churn of energy, cogs and thoughts of a behemoth beneath her feet is near silent even in the depths of the inner subway system. The traffic lights blink a little slower, the fake birds overhead sing just that tad bit louder. The children freed from school thanks to the low current bump into her by accident as they chase each other through the city square. Three Sparrows clutches her breakfast, gives the little rascals some mock chase with her fist waving in the air and then she sits down to finally scorf that food down.

First day is the hardest. This one is dedicated to check ups of the hearts, gravity generators and the memory arrays. All of that is functioning at its bare minimum right now and she better make use of that! Less thunderous beats for her body to weather even through the suit specialized for this, less frustrating fights against complete antigravity and less train of thoughts for her to derail by accidentally bumping into the softer bits of his mind.

She won't get to really interact with Euros today- or well... at least he won't be able to respond much to her day's worth of effort like he'd usually do. It's still strange to think of that. Running all around someone's body yet not actually properly interacting. This job forces a person through so many paradigm shifts... It gets exhausting to change one's understanding of simply *being* so many times.

So today she ensures his hearts are without a single scratch. That the Void Fluid trapped inside of the water is still spinning right (that part is always needlessly scary. the Void stuff can't be trusted, no matter how holy the preachers say it is, Three Sparrows on a Wire doesn't give a damn). She checks all the cables and tubes surrounding them, the antigravity generators solely dedicated to only this giant chamber all the while trying to keep her own little heart from panicking at the loud noise.

Manually she visits all the major generators sprinkled through the facility and runs diagnostics on the lesser ones through her watch. She amputates and treats the biological parts of the arrays that need it, tells hi to a sleepy yet determined Inspector that came to check it out, pries neuron flies out of weird places they somehow managed to wedge themselves into and takes a peek into Euros' mental state as per regulations.

She already knows his priority list won't make the demanded norms. Her own name shines at her from the first spot, forcing all too familiar self-blame to bloom in her chest. With a swipe of a finger, the screen disappears. Her final report will have lies in it again, then. Nobody can know.

At 23:11, fifteen hours since the beginning of the work day, Three Sparrows stumbles out of the stuffy biomechanical guts of her boyfriend without popping into the puppet chamber once absolutely destroyed.

"Oh, I always forget how sweet the evening air is. Void below, wow," she says, taking a deep breath before dragging herself home.

Aching limbs force her to skip normal dinner for easier-to-prepare and consume nutritional supplements, but they don't manage to stop her from making it to the daily family call. Or from quietly hacking into Euros' systems afterwards.

There's a spike of panic in the entire Hivemind, according to the live diagnostic program running on her watch and she looks on as his systems reach for the firewalls he unconsciously dropped alongside his damn heart rate (most likely, she has yet to catch the moment when he actually drops them). Three Sparrows can't help but grin to herself a little as she turns off her computer's cloaking *just* before the firewalls reactivate. The recognition of her IP address is instantaneous- telling by the sudden stop of Euros' frantic efforts at self-defense.

At least for a few seconds. Then he's rapidly purging her out and slamming the firewalls back into their place behind her. She barely manages to burst into laughter and her watch already pings with a new message. Message in question? Only reads a singular period.

But oh, those few pixels somehow manage to obtain all the dramatic affront, anger and disbelief a typical Euros rant would have. It only makes her laugh harder.

When she finally wills herself to stop, lest she gets a headache, she replies: "when will you finally remember to *not* become a sitting mouse for hackers during your debugging. you dumbass you!"

Euros replies with another period.

"watch out for yourself, ok? just bc im tots willing to break a guys face in the name of keeping your giant eight legged box butt safe doesnt mean im exactly itching for that kinda situation" "now good luck during the night. i gotta go take a five everything hurts"

Two periods and a second later, a heart.

Sparrows smiles at the screen a little, turns off her computer and climbs into the soft bed sheets.

The next day flies by a little easier. This one is dedicated to check ups of technologies related to production of the biological Hivemind members. There's quite a lot of those scattered through the whole body of Caper of Euros, but at least the hearts are beating a little faster today which means the gravity generators everywhere are stronger and that again means Sparrows gets to call upon an Inspector to hitch a ride with it for the whole day. No solo swimming in 0g this time!

All the production centres end up being more or less perfectly fine. Any damage caused by use is miniscule enough to not matter and be fixed naturally in a matter of days. As it should be with all Iterators out of their test run phases.

A small feeling of pride settles warmly behind her ribs. Another thing she can be almost certain to check off the long long list of her duties as a Mechanic, another Euros' step towards being completely self-dependent and, for the lack of biomechanical term on an Iterator scale, fully mature.

He's progressing despite small hiccups here and there and she couldn't be happier.

Though, one thing she will admit.

As she gives her goodbye to today's guide, Sparrows just can't wait for this day to be over. It won't be admitted aloud, especially where Euros could hear her, but she's starting to painfully miss their usual interactions.

Sure, today her interactions with him were... "closer" than yesterday, but it still wasn't it.

Another dissonance. Even being near something more closer to her level than the entirety of his physical body is not exactly a direct mutual interaction. The Inspector nuzzled to her, held her, clicked at her in some attempts at communication. And it was Euros, but... also just such a small piece of him.

So small, that it almost borders on meaningless. But it hurts to think of anything with such personality and role in the grand scheme of him as meaningless so she quickly shakes that thought out of her head.

It is strange. But she doesn't mind calling the *puppet* meaningless. That thing is what her heart yearns for now, whose embrace she's currently missing- its carmine coloration and big dark lenses are what her eyes are searching for. And still, the cynical and rational part of her dubs that piece useless without an issue.

Because the puppets are useful with their emptiness. The uselessness makes them precious, paradoxically enough.

She's even writing a paper on this subject, questioning if the existence of these masks or decoys- essentially inherent lies- are really so important. So naturally, her thoughts spiral further as she's walking back into his facilities during the third day.

Today is deep puppet chamber maintenance day. A whole day dedicated to the bullshit.

In her paper, Three Sparrows argues that puppets are installed more for the sake of the Anemon population more than the Iterators themselves. In the grand scheme of things, can it be said that these priorities will pay out?

Yes, certainly, there are aspects to puppets that are helpful for the Iterators themselves too. Mainly that the relatively little things are the central focus point of the Hivemind- a means for the entirety of the scattered person to come together and form an Individuality seamlessly.

'But,' she asks, 'isn't That a condition Created by The Puppet's Existence? If We direct Our Attention to the Iterator Inconvenient Sporadic Change, she was known to exist Outside of her Individuality Without Complications! Research shows that she performed just as well if not better in Her Duties than the other Iterators of Her Time Period- which, if I May remind The Reader Kindly, are some Monumental Names. Better output than that of Boreas' Blessing, Orion's Pathway and even The Dedicated Aftertaste of Disdain.

Her Processes proved to be Seamless, Direct, Quicker. Reports are Also Kind Enough to mention the Need for Maintenance- Be it Physical, Psychological or Emotional- was at a sweet Minimum.

If a Puppet of an Iterator Should not be Given, is it Possible that the Hivemind would find a Different, Healthier Way of Coming Together? Of My educated Opinion, I'd dare to Say Yes.

The Consciousness would have the Free Choice of expanding Outwards, to the Limits of the Superstructure, rather than Claustrophobically Inwards. This Change of Procedure would Potentially Result in Absence of These known Disorders that Plague Your Great Gifts to the World:'

Then there is also of course the benefit of pearl reading and printing, but really? Her computer doesn't need a whole person just to burn her a picture, song or some text into the surface of a pearl and then also read it back. This function of the puppets is a weakness if anything. Why not exchange the entire chamber setup for something like a series of pearl readers so they might as well multitask in this, too?

Euros certainly could be reading twenty pearls at once and burning information onto thirty other, for sure. Maybe that would sate his programmed hyperactivity at least a little before he gains access to his predetermined role as a Phone Operator Chief of the Eo group.

The puppets are just a ginormous fumble at optimization of the Iterator blueprint and that's that.

And still...

Three Sparrows climbs through the pipe into Caper of Euros' puppet chamber. This place is like another heart, despite its function being nothing like a real one. A hub of his mind, maybe. An important, precious piece of him, even if those epithets are forced onto it by circumstance.

Her feet hit the floor and the chamber brightens up just that bit to signal at least a piece of his attention is now dedicated to the happenings within the room, but stays deep carmine instead of turning light pink. That signals he's still working, just as she instructed him.

Overseers come and go to take a look at her, some stay to watch her. Understandable, since the puppet is slumped over in the middle of the floor, sitting with its eyes half closed- for once, he is the one frustratingly limited in his ability to interact with her properly even though she's right here.

"Good morning, Caps!" Sparrows cheerfully calls into the more or less empty room, giving the Overseers a quick salute in greeting. They reply with quick spins of their tendrils, the room itself greets her back with a pleased purr. One that she can feel shaking her legs even through the metal soles of her boots as she walks over to today's main point of interest.

Kneeling next to it, she rests a hand over its chest in support. "Alright. As always, we'll get through the detachment sequence and you can go fully back to finishing off the debugging. How close are you to being done?"

Something whirrs and then a projection appears on the wall in front of her of a progress bar. 87%.

"Nice! You are getting faster. Come on now, then."

During a deep maintenance of the puppet, it is advised to nearly fully disconnect it from the rest of the structure. The purpose of that is to give the systems some rest, but also to avoid stressing out or making the Hivemind uncomfortable by sticking a hand into what it perceives as its very personal very own chest.

The first step is for the Hivemind to pull back from the body, to avoid the shock of forceful extraction. Once that is done, the Iterator disconnects the umbilical arm from the back and allows the Mechanic to slowly push it away. Carefulness is needed during this- the arm contains cables and tubes, acting like an umbilical cord for an unborn offspring in some animals.

The baby analogy never fails to make her skin crawl. While Anemons conceive children without such things, it's still so... personal. It stirs unwanted feelings inherent to intelligent organic beings, the need to look after a child. These puppets are like stillborns. Stuck within the womb for the "mother" to use as an extension of its being.

That is not a matter easily pondered.

The next step, after the bundle of crucial cords safely rests on the ground, is to disconnect the umbilical cables from the back of the puppet's head.

One by one, Sparrows disconnects them. And with the last, Euros' puppet goes slack against her hand. Quite unnerving, that. It always makes her heart jump even though she knows better than to worry.

She secures the umbilical cables to the arm and pulls back to take a look at him, both arms supporting his shoulders. The head lolls, eyes still open a little yet unseeing. Something whispers that's not right, so she guides his eyelids closed for him.

...Iterators can't sleep. But the useless piece of Euros looks like he does and suddenly she can't help but feel like this is the most important thing in existence.

The something in her shifts, the something that is yearning, loving, that wants to take care of another and keep him safe from the sharp world outside.

Sparrows caves. Gathers the puppet into her arms, rests his head against her shoulder. The chamber lowly, but sharply whirrs. He's probably annoyed that she has decided to be all cuddly and sweet now when he can't be fully present for it. What little consciousness he can still muster in the puppet presents itself in the tiniest nuzzle of his face into her neck.

Such a small gesture, yet it steals her breath away. She hugs him... it.. closer, cheek presses against his forehead, a hand moves to caress the side of his face.

She marvels at the feeling of holding him. Questions why she is left stumped by an almost empty thing.

He's sleeping, face buried against her neck, says the something- he is awake, just a little drowsy, staring at her with seven eyes across the room, replies reason.

She cradles him in her lap… he's so thin and light, the feeling begs her to keep him safe until he wakes up again, he wouldn't be able to defend himself against a predator-! He holds her in his center, so small and insignificant compared to his mind breaking vastness.. her life span so minute compared to what he is yet to live through. Someone of his caliber wouldn't find a challenge in simply deleting her like a line of code.

'The only thing keeping me truly safe are the taboos woven in their genes,' says the cynical piece of mind, jaded by decades of unkind life and all tired, entertaining the absolute worst of scenarios for the sake of a warning. 'I couldn't be in a safer place than here, at his mercy, in this artificial world where he might as well be a true god,' says the lovesick heart backed up by years of experience, making her arms tighten in a hug.

She caresses his arm, taking a note of the bit too dry skin, created similarly enough to her own to bring comfort of familiarity, only to be snatched away again when there's no softness of flesh beneath.

'That's just a Generation 2 thing,' the knowledgeable mind shrugs it off.

And the more primal worrywart of a heart panics about it as it applies organic understanding of things to it. Remembering the few times Sparrows was allowed to touch Boreas' puppet, the many times Zephyr pulled her against her side for the night. Those are his family members! They are padded with something pliable-

Cushioning of Generation 1 to combat possible gravity generator outages. There's more certainty in the Iterator engineering now, Euros has no need for those. He's better off than either of them. He's safer and, terrifyingly, many times more loved than them.

She sighs, concerned and-

"Sparrows?"

Ah, that seems to be the limit for how long Euros is willing to take the actionless silence. The voice is relatively quiet considering it always echoes through the little room from the speakers seated in the corners of the ceiling. It's kind of sluggish. Not entirely out of the concentration of debugging. The Overseers have come closer.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Sure you were. Your face went on quite the journey there. Why were you frowning so much?"

She considers. "...dissension of... wants and reality, I guess."

"Well then don't go doing that when I can't feasibly help out. Same with the cuddles I want in on that."

Three Sparrows only rolls her eyes in amusement at that and goes back to work, this time with the Overseers watching her a bit more intently. It's a little uncomfortable, but she can't blame him for worrying when she does so constantly.

Later that day, when the sun hides away, her gaze lingers in random places.

In the kitchen at the table with one chair, one plate and one cup of tea. She stares at the too much space on the couch in the little living room, one toothbrush waiting at the sink, the empty place beside her in the bed.

Perhaps an Iterator puppet isn't the only empty thing in her life.

#rw #oc: three sparrows #oc: caper of euros #oc tag #philosophy sessions au #my writing #inspired by the need to have sparrows cradle a sleepy caper puppet despite her opinions on puppets #the fight of mind's opinions and heart's instinctual opinions.... oh the inner discord #mind: puppets are basically appendixes. Useless. | heart: That Is My Fuckin Boy!!! my LOVERBOY. i protect partner... get awae from him...#kinda a sad ending but what can you do. rw is tragedy adjacent and iterators are actual literal tragedies. their existence Sucks

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corevoid · 2 years

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Some silly little sewer lads✨

#those are my sons #cuties #they’re NOT the rise boys but also kinda are?#more like an au maybe. idk. just my own take on them #lots of rise with a sprinkling of 2012 and mutant mayhem #also some 2007 with the head shapes #rediscovering tmnt has revived my spirit yall #I’ve missed these boys so very much #i gave Donnie a chestplate bc as a softshell his plastron would be soft too #I’d imagine he’d wanna protect his heart and whatnot too #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #donnie tmnt #mikey tmnt #leo tmnt #raph tmnt #corvies fanart

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golden-super-retriever · 10 months

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thinking about soft college!supercorp... them studying together outside in the afternoon sun... Lena wearing Kara's jacket... Kara making sure Lena eats between her study sessions... the tenderness of it all

#nothing makes my heart vomit like college AU supercorp #i wanna put them in my pocket and protect them from everything that is evil #supercorp #supercorp prompt #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara danvers x lena luthor #supergirl

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mynameisvarian · 15 days

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He misses the old camp.. alot

#camp woodscouts au #camp camp #camp camp david #david camp camp #camp camp au #David needs to be protected #he hates it here but doesn't have the heart to leave his campers behind #He misses being a Camp Campbell counselor #inspired by a moment in my life where i got bamboozled and scarred for life by a flying worm while camping #alot of tears was shed back then

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minecraftbookshelf · 3 months

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Mind going in more depth on the relationship between Mezaela and the Ocean Empire? Bc i can’t imagine relations between the two peoples - like everyday interactions- started out well considering the whole conquering thing

They absolutely did not start out well, you're right. The time period between Mezalea getting their freedom back and...about a hundred or so years after Joel became king? give or take? were very, very tense.

Diplomatic relationships between the two empires were planned meticulously. Especially on the Oceanic side because Lizzie was fully aware that was her bad. (It wasn't entirely hers, but when all was said and done she was the one that stepped up and took responsibility and put in the effort to fix the things she broke) Mezalea of course was wary and there was a lot of distrust towards the Ocean and also Joel himself (which was really hard for him) because by the time he came back he'd been gone for well over a hundred years and had only been seen by Mezaleans on formal occasions when he was attending on Lizzie's arm. His occasional actual trips back to Mezalea were just to see family and were much more low-key so the average citizen wouldn't even have been aware of them.

There was definitely a concern when he stepped up to the throne that it would basically just be returning to Oceanic rule. This is directly responsible for the way that Lizzie and Joel act towards each other in any kind of official capacity and generally in public in their empires. Very formal and proper and being careful to observe all the niceties.

Joel is better at this than Lizzie in that his Official BusinessTM moments are less likely to come off as overblown and theatrical, while she is better at it than him in that she is more likely to remember they are supposed to be observing the etiquette at any given time.

It's been a very long road. Somewhat ironically, Jimmy helped a lot. Little baby Jimmy loved running around the Mezalean docks asking questions of the dockhands and sailors and fishermen and trailing along in and alongside the fishing boats whenever he was allowed. And baby Jimmy was very, very cute.

He also spoke Mezalean like a native, which helped.

#ask and it shall be answered #idontevenknowhowtolife #marriage of state au #and thank you so much for the ask!#i adore you with all my heart and soul #the irony in jimmy helping smooth everything over #is that jimmy and protecting him were major motivations for lizzie during her imperialism era #he was an egg he had nothing to do with it #just to be clear

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dreamersbcll · 5 months

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Holidaze

let love grow

(the core four friendsgiving we all deserve)

——————————————————————————

“Do you even know how to cook a turkey?”

Sam paused her search for the basting pan -she could’ve sworn she had one- to sigh and roll her eyes. Tara had been second-guessing her decisions since they decided to throw this “Friendsgiving feast” that the twins thought of.

New York was a year ago. They were far away, in a new city, with all their friends nearby. It seemed like a good idea to host a family get-together.

Up until Tara’s sudden culinary degree kicked in.

Her sister frowned. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you know how to cook.”

Snagging the basting dish, Sam pulled back, slamming the counter door shut. “Tara, go get the vegetables out.”

Tara saluted Sam, heading to the fridge. “Sure thing, Chef Ramsey.”

Meanwhile, Sam got lost in her prep haze. She had to clean the turkey, season it, and cut the vegetables. Tara would need to mash the potatoes and make the biscuits from a can. It all had to be done within the next six hours.

Humming, Sam set up the cutting board and grabbed her favorite knife. She almost didn’t notice that Tara had sidled up next to her.

She turned to face Tara, knife in one hand, a head of celery in the other. “What’s up, baby?”

Her little sister shrugged, her eyes fixated on the cutting board. “Can you show me?” she asked in the quietest, most timid voice.

Sam couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She would do anything for that sweet little girl she knew and loved so well.

Nodding, Sam lined up the vegetables, making room for Tara to stand next to her. “Okay, first, we line 'em all up like this…”

—

Before the two knew it, it was already time for the rest of the group to come. First, Gale arrived, already buzzed, holding bags of chips.

“You really wanted me to cook?” she snarkily said, throwing the chips at a disgruntled Tara.

Sidney came later on, holding a couple of homemade pies. Tara’s eyes lit up with joy at the sight. She was always smitten with a good apple pie. Sam should’ve made one.

Eventually, the twins arrived thirty minutes late, both kids gripping heaping food containers and several bottles of wine. Sam grinned wide at the sight, reaching out to grasp the precarious bottle that dangled in Chad’s hand…

…Only for it to slip and spill all over Sam’s shirt.

The room went silent, the laughter dying out. Everybody froze at the sight of the wine-stained shirt, Sam’s wine-stained shirt.

Without thinking, Sam turned and bolted for the bathroom, Tara following suit.

——-

“Stupid. So fucking stupid,” Sam hissed, dabbing at the wine splotches on her shirt.

It took everything in her not to taste the wine-stained fabric.

Fuck. Her mouth was watering, and her head was cloudy. Did wine always smell that good? Was that Chardonnay? She loved Chardonnay. Maybe just a taste. One lick. She’s done worse for a hit.

But she knows. Oh god, does she know what one dab, line, and drink could do. Down the rabbit hole into the darkness, she barely crawled out alive the last time.

That had just survived New York. She couldn’t do this to the group— especially not her little girl. It would tear them apart. Sam couldn’t survive being the reason that breaks her family.

All over a stupid bottle of spilled wine, all over her shirt.

Once an addict, always an addict.

“It’s just alcohol. Just fruit juice. For adults. It’s not a big deal. Fucking snap out of it, Sam,” she cussed.

But it wouldn’t go away.

“Stop it. Stop fucking thinking of that. Grow up. Grow fucking up!”

“Sam?”

Shit. Tara.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m almost done here—just a spill. Be out in a minute,” Sam called, trying to suppress the anxiety rising within her.

“Let me in.”

That wasn’t a question. It was a command. Without thinking, Sam unlocked the door and let her sister in.

Tara walked in slowly, surveying the bathroom. One look at Sam, and she could tell that Tara knew. Sam’s frantic hair, her wild eyes, her shaking hands— all pointed to an alcoholic freaking out over a spilled drink.

Without saying anything, Tara held out a hand, asking for the wine-soaked rag in Sam’s hand. Sam handed it to her without thinking, afraid of the stoic look on Tara’s face.

As Tara took it, pursing her lips, Sam needed to back down. She was too much. Too raw. She had to reel it in. “It’s fine, it’s just-”

“Let me help you,” Tara said, cutting Sam off before she could continue babbling.

Sam snapped her mouth shut. “Okay.”

Tara hummed, turning on the tap to wet the rag. The two watched the faucet run, the noise of the water filling the buzzing in Sam’s head.

Her little sister started to wash the shirt, her lips in a tight line. “I understand, you know. I told them to keep it away from you. Don’t worry. I’ve got you, too,” Tara whispered.

Bowing her head, Sam conceded. Of course, her little sister knew. She always knew. How could Sam ever forget?

“Thank you, my love.”

Tara paused from wiping off Sam’s shirt, and before Sam could react, she darted forward, kissing Sam’s cheek. Before Sam could say anything, Tara was out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Sam turned back to the mirror, noticing the fresh shirt and bra left on the countertop, neatly folded. Next to it was a garbage bag, the message clear.

Trash the shirt. We can replace it. We can’t replace you.

Who was Sam to argue with her little sister?

——

Once Sam finally exited the bathroom, she found everybody sitting at the dinner table, anxiously awaiting her arrival. Steaming food was strewn across the tabletop, napkins folded neatly on each plate. Soft murmurs of conversation stopped once Sam got to the table, the only sound being the flickering of candles Tara had lit.

Upon seeing Sam’s new outfit, Chad winced, his mouth open comically wide. Apparent panic and remorse were reflected in his eyes, and everyone else around the table looked somber.

He stood up, his hands up in surrender. “Shit, Sam, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

Sam waved him off, calming him down with a small smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just sit down and eat, yeah?”

Chad smiled gratefully, mouthing thank you. Sam just nodded and sat at the head of the table, surveying the people around her. Sidney was at her left, Mindy at her right. Across from her was Tara, looking at Sam with such soft and gentle concern that it made her heart ache.

I love you, she mouthed.

Tara smiled at her, eyes shining. I love you, too.

With her heart now full and her stomach empty, Sam clapped her hands, suddenly excited to eat. “Well, what do healthy families do at dinner?”

“Say grace?” Mindy suggested, clasping her hands together.

Chad nodded enthusiastically while Gale shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” the woman remarked, taking another swig of her drink.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, alright. Who wants to do it?”

The group all looked at one another, raising eyebrows and silently asking someone to step up.

“I will,” Tara said, looking at Sam pointedly.

That’s her girl. That’s her Tara.

“Okay, baby. Go ahead,” she softly said, smiling at her girl.

Tara smiled at the name, her dimples popping. Sidney held out a hand for Tara to take, the rest of the group reaching out and clasping hands together. Sam watched her little sister bow her head, everyone else following suit. Only when she saw her little sister close her eyes did Sam also bow her head.

“Well, after all we’ve been through, I’m not sure if there’s a God,” Tara began, pausing for the giggles and murmurs to die down.

“But I do believe in family. And the people around me are the best family I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for them. I love them all, and I would do nothing,”

“That being said, I want to say how thankful I am for my big sister. Sam is the strongest person I’ve ever known, and I believe in her like one would in God. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.”

“Uh, amen?” Chad said.

The group broke apart, giggling and sniffling. Chad reached over to dig into the roast while Mindy started handing out napkins, Sidney and Gale topping off their drinks.

While the table was alive with conversation and movement, all Sam could do was take in the girl across from her in all her glory. Her little girl was something to behold. Such a powerful and beautiful girl she was, with potential that would surely leave a mark on the world in a good way- unlike the Loomis blood that tainted Sam’s reputation.

She wonders if Tara knows how much she loves her and how she would move heaven and earth to make her smile. She would kill again for her little sister.

Instead of moving to dish up food, Tara was doing the same thing, just watching her big sister.

Tara and Sam just watched each other, thousands of words left unsaid in the air.

It didn’t matter. They had each other. That was all that needed to be said.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #the core four!#AU: protect my heart #soft and somber #found family <3 #scream vi

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marshmurmurs · 8 months

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hes eepy

the abyss but what it looks like is based off of the hunters memories. it expands with each death in a vault, taking bits and pieces and building, creating something that should feel familiar to the hunters, something they should want to trust, something that is every so slightly Wrong

sparkly doesnt die in the abyss in the funky abyss au but he is in there fairly willingly and the abyss is able to poke around his head and go shopping for landscaping ideas. helps that he remembers the forest of the abyss fondly

#mcyt #captainsparklez #vault hunters smp #vault gods smp #vhsmp #marsh tries #btv abyss au #<--finally deciding i should make a tag for stuff specifically set in the au ive been hypothetically writing a fic about #''hes eepy'' my brother in craft hes on half a heart #hes unknowingly experiencing the Horrors and im not sure i can help him with that #heal wont bring back hearts removed by vault fruit #besides i associate being able to heal in a vault at all with the vault gods protection #like you dont get natural regen in a vault but velara can give you regen or increase your max health with their favor #and idona can give you leech #theres the pylons(?) that can give regen or extra hearts #the gods try to protect the hunters in the vaults. in their domain. which mans is outside of. the vg cant reach him #actually wait might have to do some research with like hearty apples or whatever the ones that can give you temp hearts are #and how they interact with vault fruit #either way bro is gonna feel unstoppable when he is removed from the abyss and has like. rows of hearts again

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afewproblems · 10 months

Text

In My Heart is a Memory (And There You'll Always Be) Part One

So! Awhile back now I received an anonymous prompt - which I can't post all of (yet) since it will spoil this new WIP which has gotten away from me in terms of length (as always). Needless to say we begin with Steddie childhood friends AU and continue from there!

Thank you to the nonny who sent me this beautiful prompt, I can't wait to take you on this journey!

Steve never thought it would end this way.

He tries desperately again to loosen the fishing line that has wrapped itself around his foot, trapping him in the frigid grey water. Steve paddles up again to take a deeper breath only to find that he's unable to fully breach the surface enough to breathe.

He gulps down a mixture of water and air, sputtering as it hits his lungs and chokes his throat. He realises, deliriously, that he might actually die here, alone in the woods at twelve years old.

This is why his mother had forbidden him from swimming in the lake, especially by himself; she had told him a million times not to go down there alone.

Steve slips under again, watching as the last few bubbles of air fly towards the surface above him, his vision begins to tunnel as he belatedly wishes he had thought to tell someone that he was going to lovers lake that afternoon.

Two strong hands suddenly appear on both sides of him, grasping Steve by the arms, hauling him out of the water.

"Shit, he's caught on something, Ed, hand me my knife, hurry," a gruff voice says as Steve is dragged into a boat, he sputters and coughs, gasping for air as his lungs burn and seize.

"Is he okay?" another younger voice says anxiously.

Steve opens his eyes just enough to find a wide pair of brown eyes staring back at him, a boy with a mop of curly hair sits beside Steve, he chews his lip nervously as the older man works on cutting away the tangle of old fishing line that had caught Steve earlier.

"This is why we always take our lines with us instead of leavin' em in the lake," the older man huffs as he severs the last knot holding Steve's leg, "he should be okay, you're lucky we were here kid".

All Steve can do is nod, his chest and throat still sore from his near drowning.

The other boy, Ed, inches closer but doesn't touch him, he looks around the boat with raised hands as though looking for some way to help.

"I think we're done fishing for today," the old man huffs, if he's anxious his voice doesn't show it, but Steve can see the worry in his dark eyes.

"Give him your coat Ed, let's bring our catch home to warm up".

The words seem to jumpstart the other boy as he hurriedly shrugs off his jean jacket and draps it clumsily over Steve's shoulders.

"You got a name kid?" the man asks gently before his expression finally shifts to one of panic, "aw hell, we gotta warm you up, you ain't even shivering".

"His lips are blue," Ed blurts out, his brow pinched with worry, "Wayne--"

"I see it, sit with him would ya, I'll get the engine going again," Wayne grunts out as he switches places with Eddie. The boat tips slightly as they move making Steve hiss as cold water tips over the side and onto his legs.

"My name's Eddie," the teen yells over the roar of the engine motor as it jumps to life; he sits down on the bench across from him, "what's your name?"

"S-Steve," he manages to get out between chattering teeth, his body finally beginning to shake in an attempt to warm itself back up.

"Don't worry," Eddie murmurs sagely, "we'll take care of you, right Uncle Wayne?"

Wayne nods with a tight smile as he begins to steer the boat back to shore.

"I don't need the hospital," Steve grumbles from the back seat of the pickup truck, eliciting an exaggerated eye roll from Wayne in the rearview mirror.

Heat blasts from the vents as soon as they pull away from the dirt side road by the docks and Steve is finally starting to warm up. Wayne had helped him step his shaking limbs into his discarded clothing they found on docks, but his damp swim shorts had soaked through his jeans, leaving a small persistent shiver running through him.

"We ain't leaving it to chance kid," Wayne grouses at him, "you inhaled a lot of lake water back there and I've spent enough time in a boat to know you need to be checked out by a professional".

Steve pouts in the back seat next to Eddie who looks between Steve and his uncle with a sharp furrow between his brow.

"Couldn't we take him to our place Wayne, we can look after him there," Eddie says with a toothy grin, he winks at Steve before catching Wayne's unimpressed glare in the rearview mirror.

"No, hospital first," he grumbles but the words are without heat and if the fond smile is anything to go by, Wayne seems more exasperated than angry.

Which is good.

Steve can't begin to picture how angry his own dad will be when he gets home.

Maybe enough for the belt again.

He shivers again and feels a bony shoulder connect lightly with his own; Steve looks up to find Eddie staring again, this time with a shy smile.

"You good," Eddie asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice, "sorry 'bout him".

He holds up one hand to block Wayne's vision of Eddie's face and points towards his uncle into the palm of his hand, "the old man’s stubborn sometimes".

The absurdity startles a wild giggle out of Steve that Eddie soon matches.

Wayne keeps driving, his eyes travelling between the road and the rearview mirror at the two boys giggling in the backseat. Wayne shakes his head and smiles slightly as they pull onto Main Street.

"Are you at Hawkins Middle? I don't know if I've seen you there before," Eddie asks abruptly, interrupting the laughter.

"I'm going to the highschool next year which is kind of cool," Eddie continues, not waiting for Steve to answer which is almost a relief given the strange exhaustion settling in Steve’s bones the longer they sit there.

"I heard from one of the other older kids at the tra--the park that there are a ton of clubs to join and even one for Dungeons and Dragons --you heard of it?"

Steve shakes his head, "is that like a board game or something?"

Eddie barks out a laugh and launches into an explanation, the words tumbling out at a mile a minute to the point that Steve isn't sure what he's even talking about anymore.

"And you use your character traits to help decide what to do, then the roll you get from your dice determines if you are successful or not!"

Steve frowns slightly, it doesn't sound like any board games he's ever heard of but it has dice, what else could it be?

"It's hard to explain without like showing you the books," Eddie admits, picking at a stray thread from the hole in his jeans, "I'll show you later at school, maybe?"

Steve can count on one hand the number of times he's actually been invited to hang out or play with another kid over the years that wasn't orchestrated by his mother.

He's not much for board games, but if that's what Eddie's inviting him to play, who is Steve to say no?

"Do you get to fight Dragons? Like a knight?" Steve asks quietly, his throat still sore from earlier. He laughs when Eddie nods so excitedly his whole body practically vibrates before jumping into a new explanation of the different characters people could play.

Steve spends the whole time listening with a wide grin on his face. He doesn't think he's ever met someone who talks so much, but Eddie has so much to say and he wants to tell Steve of all people.

He's too tired to add anything himself, the adrenalin from earlier seems to flow out of him, sinking into the back seat.

"Do you have Newson for English?" Eddie asks as they enter the hospital and Wayne takes them to the counter, he speaks with the nurse at the Emergency Room intake desk in a hushed voice, letting Steve and Eddie continue their conversation.

Steve shakes his head, feeling suddenly warm, much too warm and tired.

"Maybe we have the same lunch period, I want to show you the players handbook on Monday," Eddie practically vibrates beside him with excitement, "you can sit at my table and…Steve?"

Eddie suddenly sounds so far away, Steve struggles to stay upright and sways heavily into the other boy's side.

"Steve?!"

There's a commotion around him, people yelling and touching him suddenly, but he doesn't want that. He's so warm, it's hard to think, his vision begins to tunnel again.

The last thing he sees as a pair of gentle hands lay him down is Eddie worried brown eyes staring into his own as his world goes dark.

***

The first thing Steve realises when he wakes up, is that he's in a hospital bed.

The second is that he's alone.

The steady beat of the heart rate monitor almost lulls him back to sleep but he fights to stay awake.

Steve peers around the room, spotting his mothers coat and purse on the chair in the corner.

Shit.

This is what he was hoping to avoid, his parents finding out he deliberately disobeyed their rules and landed himself in the hospital.

Steve tries to sit up but the movement pulls at the strange tubing around his face and the IV in his arm. He hisses at the tug of the needle and flops back down against the flat pillow behind his head.

The heart rate monitor ticks up slightly at the movement, seemingly calling out to the nurses at the station outside.

As if on cue, a nurse steps into the room, followed by his mother.

Diane Harrington always looked put together. Pearls, heels, never a hair out of place.

Today however, Diane's pale wane face stares at Steve in stony silence. No makeup, her hair sits flat against her head. A fine tremor runs over her clenched hands but she smooths down the front of her shirt to hide it.

"Looks like someone's awake," the nurse says with a kind smile.

She picks up the chart at the edge of the bed as his mother walks around to the chair that has been pulled up closest to Steve's side. She doesn't sit.

The nurse is around his mom’s age, maybe a little older if the laugh lines around her mouth are any indication. Her blond hair is streaked with grey as well and pinned back to let the small white hat sit properly on top. Her light brown eyes trace over the page of his chart and a slight crease begins to form between them as she frowns slightly.

"What is it?" Diane says, the words come out smoothly; Steve tries to make eye contact with her, to see just how mad she is about this, how mad his dad will be when they get home, but she ignores his gaze.

"The doctor will be in shortly, he'll explain," she says apologetically before placing the chart back down at the edge of the bed.

"Steven," the nurse says softly as she walks towards him, on the side opposite his mother, "my name is Claudia, and myself and Doctor Sattler will be taking care of you today".

Steve nods, suddenly shy as Claudia reaches into the pocket of her white apron and shows Steve a long black tube with a shiny metal circle at one end, the other is split down the middle into two angled sections at the other end.

"Steven, this is a Stethoscope, I'm going to use it to listen to your heart and your lungs, so I'm going to need you to sit up, can you do that for me?"

He nods and begins to shift, slowly this time to avoid jostling the IV this time.

"Steven," Diane says sharply from her place beside the bed, she still isn't looking at him, "you need to answer when you're asked a question."

"Sorry," he mumbles, abashed at his mother's words.

Claudia's frown returns as her eyes dart between Steve and Diane, but she remains silent and simply places the stethoscope into her ears.

"This will be a little cold," Claudia warns as she lifts up his shirt to place the metal against his back, "okay, you're going to give me a big deep breath," she instructs softly, giving him a smile.

Steve breathes in, it's not painful, but there's an awful pressure in his chest that makes him wince, the strange whistling sound his breath makes also doesn't help.

Claudia must notice because she tuts and tells him she just needs a few more breaths from him.

She moves the metal from his back to his chest and asks him to take two more deep breaths for her, on the last one his chest spasms and his throat constricts just enough to make him begin to cough horribly.

Steve doubles over, uncaring this time of the pull on the IV, he can't seem to catch his breath this time.

Steve registers his mother and Claudia trying to speak to him and a gentle hand on his back rubbing in a soothing circle but all Steve can think is, I can't breathe, as he coughs up a glob of frothy pink liquid into the sheets covering his legs.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor begins to increase to a constant frantic pulse, I can’t breathe, he wants to scream but his throat constricts around the words, it feels as though an elephant has sat itself in the middle of his chest as he registers something being pressed to his mouth and nose.

"Try to take a deep breath, one mississippi, two mississippi, that's it sweetheart," Claudia pats his back gently and keeps a steady hold of the mask over his face.

The pressure in his chest slowly begins to relent as he follows Claudia’s direction, one mississippi, two mississippi, in and out. The constant puff of air around his nose and mouth seems to finally be helping.

"You're going to give us even more grey hair before we discharge you huh kiddo," a new voice rumbles from the door.

Steve looks up wearily at a man in a white coat with horn rimmed glasses staring down at him. There is a kind smile on his face, much like the one Wayne had when he helped Steve exit their truck earlier that day.

Was it still Saturday? Steve looks around again for the window, he could have sworn it was still light out.

"What are you giving him?" Diane whispers above Steve, she hazards a brief glance at him before looking back at the doctor who lifts a syringe to pump something into the IV tubing, but Steve isn’t paying attention, he’s trying to find the clock he had seen earlier on the far wall.

"Just something to help him breathe a little easier, that's all," the man says gently as he takes Steve's chart from the end of the bed where Claudia had left it.

"BP is a little low," Claudia murmurs, she lets go of the mask and lays Steve back down onto the bed, smoothing his hair back lightly as she leaves his bedside.

"Steven, my name is Dr. Sattler, I heard you had an interesting morning today?"

Dr. Sattler gives Steve and his mother a warm smile as he places the chart back down on the bed, he eyes the machines at the bedside for a moment before taking Steve’s wrist gently in his hand and lifting the face of his watch up to meet his eyes.

He nods and lays Steve’s hand back down onto the bed, above the covers.

Suddenly a bright light is shining into Steve's eyes, he winces slightly as it moves quickly, “Steven, can you tell me if you hit your head at all when you were in the lake today?”

Steve tries to think back to the lake. He remembers getting his foot caught in the discarded fishing line, the feeling of water running down the back of his throat, filling his nose; the way the light began to fade as he sank down--

“Steven?” Dr. Sattler prompts again, his brow creases in the barest of frowns.

Steve swallows once and shakes his head as a shrill beeping noise fills the room, everyone flinches, whirling around to the machines before Steve's mother snatches her purse from the nearby chair and rips the buzzing pager out to turn it off.

She glares at the message, "I need to make a call, I'll be back".

Dr. Sattler frowns but steps aside to allow Diane to sweep out of the room.

"Well Steven-"

"Can you call me Steve?" He asks, the words so quiet that Dr. Sattler and Claudia both tilt towards him to hear.

The doctor reaches for the chart again, his eyes flick to Claudia once before landing back on Steve with a small patient smile.

"Of course, Steve," he says deliberately before clearing his throat, "I'll wait for your mother to come back to go over our plan for you okay?"

"Are you," he whispers, "am I going to need a shot?" Claudia tuts this time, coming around to the side of the bed to brush his hair away from his forehead, "you were so brave for your IV," she says brightly, "if you need another I'll hold your hand, how does that sound?" Steve blushes as his little face scrunches into a grimace. He knows he wasn't awake when they gave him the IV.

After a beat, he shakes his head, "It's okay, I'm not a baby". Claudia purses her lips and pats his hand gently, "I don't like needles either, sometimes I need someone to hold my hand, no shame in it, okay?"

Steve chews on that thought for a moment, rolling it around in his head, why would adults be scared of anything?

His dad had made it perfectly clear over the years what real men were like, and being afraid of things never once made the list.

Steve looks up at the nurse and meets her kind eyes, a softer brown than he'd ever seen before with fine lines in the corners creased into a smile.

"I'd hold your hand, Miss Claudia," Steve agrees eventually.

She smiles at him and pats his hand again before stepping away.

"I'll go find your mother, there's only one payphone on this floor so she can't be far," she asserts to Steve before making her way to the door. She whispers something to Dr. Sattler on her way out before disappearing through the door.

"While nurse Henderson tracks down your mother, I'll see if radiology has your scans ready, sit tight kiddo”.

Steve nods as the doctor tries for a small reassuring smile but the effect is lost in the tightness around his eyes. Dr. Sattler pushes open the door which swings back and forth as he disappears into the hallway, leaving Steve to lay back against the flat pillows and scratchy hospital sheets, with only the steady sound of the monitors and the clock on the wall to keep him company.

A new wave of exhaustion sweeps over him suddenly, now that he’s alone.

He wishes Eddie had managed to convince his uncle to let them just go back to their place, he would have been okay if they had just stayed in the truck - he probably wouldn’t have passed out if they had just gone to Eddie’s house.

Steve glares at the ceiling at the unfairness of it all, a small part of him knows that it’s for the best that Dr. Sattler and Miss Claudia are looking after him now, but what will his dad say about the hospital bills, or the bed rest?

He’s not sure how much time has passed. It’s been harder to keep track of here without a proper clock in the room but the sun has moved, carving long shadows in his room in between the copper evening light. He must have drifted off at some point since his mother has suddenly returned as well as Dr, Sattler.

Miss Claudia is nowhere to be found and Steve finds himself feeling rather bereft at her absence.

Diane Harrington stands beside his bed, her hands wrapped so tightly around the strap of her purse that her manicured nails dig into the palms of her hands and her knuckles have been stained white.

Dr. Sattler stands in front of a large box affixed to the wall, it’s lit up with two translucent black and white images on it that the doctor keeps pointing to different areas of the strange lumpy white images while he talks.

“To put it simply, Mrs. Harrington, it’s not good”.

Oh.

Steve feels as though the bed beneath him has dropped away while Doctor Sattler continues speaking.

Steve had aspirated a lot of water into his lungs while in the lake and was already in the beginning stages of pneumonia because of it. So Steve would need to stay on his course of antibiotics and oxygen for at least a week to let his lungs heal and rest as much as possible.

Diane’s expression does not shift during the conversation, remaining artfully neutral the entire visit. She nods and asks questions about Steve’s medication and when he would be allowed to come home.

A flicker of something crosses her face when Dr. Sattler mentions the inhaler Steve would likely need to carry with him at all times.

“For how long?” she asks sharply as Dr. Sattler flips through Steve’s chart once more.

He hums and purses his lips, “honestly, it depends, he could need it for a few months, he could need it for the rest of his life,” he shakes his head and sets down the chart, “we need to see how his lungs look after the inflammation goes down to really be sure”.

“What does that mean?” Steve blurts out, drawing their gaze towards him.

Steve bristles slightly as Diane shoots him the barest of glares. He’s the one in the hospital bed, he can’t even ask questions about what will happen to him?

“The tissue in the lungs is very sensitive and delicate,” Dr. Sattler continues, his words come out slowly as though he is carefully sifting through to choose the best ones, “so, what that means is you may need medication to help your lungs function properly”.

“Steven’s father was hoping for him to join the varsity swim team in the next few years,” Diane says wearily, the first hint of emotion finally seeping into her voice as she sinks into the chair holding her purse.

Steve winces.

It’s no secret that his father’s goal for Steve, his…expectation, is for his son to follow his example to the letter.

Varsity swimming --perhaps even basketball if he takes after his father’s lithe frame of six foot two. Get into college on an athletics scholarship, graduate with a business degree to eventually take over the family business --not that Richard has ever once explained just exactly what he does for a living.

Steve would then marry a nice girl, one he'll meet at college since Hawkins won't have any girls good enough for the Harringtons, and eventually pump out two grandkids for Diane to fawn over.

This was the plan for Steve’s life, there was no room for error.

“Mrs. Harrington, there’s no reason to think he won’t be able to do these things--”

But the words fall flat as Steve’s mother gets up from her chair and stalks out of the room, leaving a wake of disappointment and silence behind her.

A lump begins to form in Steve’s throat and he tries to blink away the harsh sting in his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to the lake that morning, he’d been told so many times never to go by himself, not when the Harringtons had their own beautiful inground pool installed just three summers ago.

Dr. Sattler breathes out a long weighty sigh and lifts a hand to scratch at a missed patch of stubble on his chin.

He looks between the closed door and back at Steve, seeming to make a decision.

"Okay son," Doctor Sattler sighs, "you're going to hear things over the years about what you will or won't be able to do".

Steve lifts his hand up to wipe at his eyes as discreetly as he can with the doctor at the edge of his bed and nods.

"This does not need to define you, there are plenty of athletes out there with lung conditions and I would encourage you to keep active, it might actually benefit you to do so".

Steve manages to hold back a scoff just barely and nods, dropping his gaze to his feet beneath the blankets.

"I'm not saying you need to go out and run a marathon," Doctor Sattler says dryly at the incredulous expression on his face.

"But you will need to keep them strong and exercise will help with that, so if you like swimming, keep swimming, okay kid?"

He pauses again and adds, "no smoking while you're at it".

Steve's mouth drops open in protest, he's never smoked, well, not a full cigarette at least.

One of the neighbour kids, Tommy, had smuggled cigarettes out of his dad’s pants pocket and taken them to school for everyone to try. Steve had nearly thrown up at the taste and the feel of acrid smoke filling his nose and mouth.Tommy had laughed so hard about Steve spitting into the grass outside the baseball dugout and proceeded to tell everyone he could find.

Steve still associated the taste of cigarettes with Tommy's laugh, the sound turning his stomach just as easily now.

Steve shakes his head under the doctor's unimpressed gaze, "I-I dont--"

Doctor Sattler raises his eyebrow and cuts Steve off with a sweep of his hand, "sure son, just make sure you don't continue, especially because your lungs are still growing and we want to capitalize on that as much as possible".

The doctor pats Steve's shoulder awkwardly, letting his heavy hand rest briefly before he turns away towards the door once more.

"Anyway, I have a feeling you'll be getting a few more lectures in the future so that's enough out of me, you best settle in kiddo, you'll be here for at least a week".

Steve nods tiredly, he can hear his dad's voice in his head now, 'this is the stupidest thing you've ever done Steven--'

"Get some rest, no sense worrying about it now," Doctor Sattler says as he slips out into the hallway without a knowing furrowed brow.

And with that Steve is alone once more.

The light outside his window is beginning to fade into the horizon; he wonders belatedly if Eddie will look for him on Monday.

Steve rolls over, ignoring the new sting behind his eyes and the heaviness in his lungs as he wonders how he can miss someone he just met this much.

Part Two Now Up!

#childhood friends au #pre-steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt steve harrington #afewproblems writes #In my heart is a memory and there you'll always be #is this from a song from The Fox and the Hound #we love a protective and stubborn wayne in this house #claudia henderson is a nurse and I will die on this hill because I love this idea #steves parents can kick rocks #steve harrington has bad parents #thank you again to the nonny who inspired this I hope you will like where I take this and I hope you know that i appreciated you sending it

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