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autisticrosewilson · 2 months

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I just know that Joey has a white knuckle grip on the table Everytime he hears Dick talk about Jason. Like oh, your brother came back from the grave and you... didn't immediately try to drag him home? Oh you don't trust him and he's not allowed back in the family because he kills people who arguably deserve it? You just let Bruce deal with him? He almost launches himself over the table when Dick starts talking about Jason coming back wrong

#do you guys ever think he's bitter that the Bats got a miracle they don't even appreciate #that he spends everyday thinking of what he would say if Grant came home how he would convince him to stay #but the Bats have their boy back and they don't even care. They treat him like his unsightly monster born from blood and grave dirt #and not their brother and son that's hurting and scared and wants desperately to come home even though he knows he can't #There's a story uere somewhere about Joey using Jason as s replacement for Grant and Jason still ending up the second choice #but I've posted enough angst the past few days I'll spare you guys #dc #jason todd #dick grayson #Joey Wilson #grant wilson dc

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misersdream · 1 year

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my webcomic Miracle Simulator has reached its finale after 5 years of running. Thanks for reading!

If you haven’t checked it out yet, it’s a perfect series to binge now! it’s a scifi M/M romance that explores the idea of living in a simulation and how it would affect love, life, and the meaning of existence. You can find it on Webtoon and Tapas!

#webtoon #comic #web comics #webcomic update #digital art #tapas #webtoon canvas #miracle simulator #2023 #not putting links in the post bc i heard that hurts visibility but you can web search the title and it pops up first thing!#sorry to sophie being the only character whos face got cut in half rip

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duusheen · 5 months

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While the girls played inside, Miracle decided they finally needed to clear things up. With Jay living in the city and she on the ranch, it was clear to Mir that their relationship wouldn't have a future. A part of her knew that when she let him go, it would be for good. But they had always been a team and were still raising three girls, so Jay was more than open to an amicable separation. After all, before they were lovers, they had been best friends 💞

#ts4 gameplay #ts4 challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #ts4 screenshots #this is hurting my heart #The only thing I'm going to say is poor the fool who decides to hurt Miracle #Maybe she's not HIS girl anymore but she's still his girl #he still loves miracle deeply 😢#If there's one thing Jay learned from his father it's that you don't want to be on the wrong side of a Holm girl #So he said yes to an amicable separation 🤣#Lindsay was the first girl to break Leif's heart and now Miracle breaks Jay's heart? Is this karma??? 😂😂#pollock legacy #gen4 #miracle holm #jay pollock

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partiallithopseffect · 8 months

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Torchwood, Immortal Sins // Fragments // Children of Earth // Exit Wounds // The Categories of Life

[Image ID: several images from the TV show Torchwood. Gwen Cooper and Captain Jack Harness have a conversation as the sun rises. Gwen: "What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? Not just on Earth." Jack: "I saw a firebird once." Gwen: "Oh, yeah?" Jack: "Literally made of fire. It only lives for a minute. It gets so bright you have to close your eyes. And when you open them, it's gone. But the image stays behind your eyelids for longer than it was alive." The conversation is interspersed with images of the Torchwood team, as well as Owen, Tosh, Ianto, and Vera's death scenes.]

#torchwood #torchwood: immortal sins #gwen cooper #captain jack harkness #owen harper #toshiko sato #ianto jones #vera juarez #miracle day #the images are not the same size bc i'm tired. but this hurt me #grief #death cw #certified tara posting

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xysidhequeen · 7 months

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Did Jason open up his trauma to Jazz? Since she is the group team mom

Oh my Ancients, yes. She cracked that boy open like a walnut. It took a bit, but Jazz reminds him somewhat of Barbara and Harley, so he warmed up to her fairly quickly overall. She really taught him what it's like to have a big sibling(sorry, I love Dick but he was a shit older brother before Jason died).

Jason will talk to Jazz about things he'd never say to anyone else. He actually opens up to Ember and Kitty too, but they're more for when he wants someone to cry with and to have get all enraged on his behalf. Jazz is who he talks to when he wants to fix it.

It wasn't always like that. He had to learn how to differentiate. Had to learn when he needed help, when he had things that needed to be fixed. He had to unlearn the emotional constipation and phobia of talking about his feelings he learned from Bruce too. But Jazz is used to dealing with teenage boys who won't admit they're hurting even on pain of death. She's good at subtly working their pain out and helping them confront it. (She learned a lot from helping Danny and from her Psych classes so she's more crafty about it too)

Jazz is one of the biggest reasons Jason is as stable and emotionally healthy as he is. He's not healed completely. He won't be until he gets closure with Bruce and the Joker. And there's some things that will always stick around. Trauma leaves scars. But without Jazz, we wouldn't have the Jason we do in TKAHRK we'd have someone far closer to the Jason from UTRH.

#zee answers #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #the king and his red knight #the king and his red knight au #tkahrk #tkahrk au #jason todd #Jazz is a QUEEN and a GODDESS #shes a fucking miracle worker #I also mention in the story she helped him settle on his vigilante name. they went through weeks of discussing it #arguing over reclaiming a name and if it would trigger him and if the message was worth it if he was only picking it for revenge #or to hurt Bruce. Jazz was hughly critical and really made Jason THINK about it. they settled on the name and i explained why #But Jazz knows everything. more than even Danny knows about Jason. Jazz is the person Jason cant keep secrets from and never does #Jason is a mama's boy but Jazz is his mom here.#honestly tho if Jazz ever meets Bruce or the Joker in a dark alleyway its going to be on SIGHT she will throw all the hands #like she honestly HATES the Joker for what he did and Bruce is skating on thin fucking ice where shes concerned #hahahaha bruce run when she finds out that Tim is being negelected and you didnt notice

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seth-burroughs · 5 months

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Yomi: i'm gonna commit and allow police brutality for 5 years straight and practice torture and prisoner abuse as hobby, cover up murders whenever convenient, turn women into cubes and sic my hitman bf on anyone that criticizes me

Makoto: ok but you're still my spicy little kitten

Yomi: also about to commit corporate espionage,

Makoto: i am going to make you die a crack addict

#mine #shitpost tag #rain code #yomi hellsmile #makoto kagutsuchi #makoyomi #<- i don't think he'd enable him that much if he didn't consider him his pretty pretty princess.#that is the power of LOVE. it makes you ignore the faults of the other in hopes of getting the [audio unclear] 😔😔#so this is awkward i was about to make a whole essay in the tags but I used up my whole energy typing a sentence so that's it.#sorry. thinking hurts flesh vessel weak my frail body only kept together by a single piece of duct tape and a miracle

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jacarandaaaas · 5 months

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something I never noticed in this scene is not only is mirabel replicating isabelas movement in the opening song but the lights shown aren’t even lights! they’re flowers! pretty neat detail to show how mirabel is very specifically jealous of isabela wanting not only her grace but also her gift!

#encanto #encanto disney #disneys encanto #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #I bet everyone already knew this but I’m slow ok #also this shot is so pretty #I would draw it but drawing perspective is something I have 0 skills in so I wouldn’t do it justice #also I forgot to include this in my waiting on a miracle rant #but like ouch hurts more when you see the flowers #mirabel encanto #disney’s encanto

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Eleven

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 11

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] Part Eleven [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You walk into the grand hall with your maid, who you wave off to go to the tables with the other servants while you head for the dais. With the tournament coming up in a couple days as the official start to the wedding festivities—the hunt being unofficial—more and more people are arriving in Northridge itself or the town nearby.

A majority of them were invited to at least one supper at the estate after their arrival. As one of the betrothed, and the only one present, that means you are seated next to Grandmother and introduced to any and all guests. Many of the ones who had arrived so far are neighbors or family of Northridge and so you try to fix them firmly in your mind as you’re likely to see them again.

It’s exhausting. Between so many new people and your worry over how Dale is faring on the hunt that you can’t seem to vanquish, you can’t wait for the hunt’s return.

Today you see yet another new face waiting for you. A dignified woman in a handsome black suit, seemingly alone you are glad to see, is listening to Grandmother speak with a smile that softens her stern figure. Grandmother starts beckoning you over as soon as she spots you. “Come, come, dear,” she says. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Lady Breighton. Breighton, this is my new grandchild-to-be.”

“Pleased to meet you,” you say once close enough, curtsying, as your mind runs through what you remember of this aunt: unmarried and lives in Verlind. The one Dale remembered as disliking him before he went away.

Her eyes are sharp when you meet them and she gives you a polite bow in return. “You as well,” she replies, her voice low and confident, before her eyes return to her mother. “Speaking of, where is Father and the man of the hour?”

“Having a hunt, you know how those sorts are,” Grandmother waves her hand dismissively. “I hoped they would be back in time for supper tonight, but I suppose that was too much to expect.”

“I’ve certainly never understood the appeal of risking one’s life before getting married,” Lady Breighton says with some scorn, “except as a poorly done attempt to get out the wedding proper—if rather short-sighted to one’s other future prospects.”

You can’t tell if she’s joking for all Grandmother laughs. “Oh, hush. Sit down, sit down. It’s making my neck hurt, staring up at the two of you.”

You take your seat to her left, while her daughter sits on her right. You take additional care arranging your skirts to give yourself a few extra seconds before you must engage in conversation. The back of your neck prickles with the sensation someone is watching you as you do so. You look up to see Lady Breighton looking back at you, weighing you.

Grandmother gives no notice to this and simply continues, “It is lovely to be planning a wedding again, although each time I do forget how much is involved. We have not hosted since your brother’s nearly fifteen years ago.”

“I’m sure you have it well in hand, Mother,” Breighton says with a certain wry twist to her mouth. “As long as Dale isn’t making it a trial.”

Grandmother laughs. “Nonsense. You have always been too harsh on him,” she wags her finger at her daughter, but there’s no heat behind it, only amusement. “He is a growing lad and is as invested in his own wedding as he should be. The vigor of youth is to be encouraged, not stifled.” When Breighton looks as though she might object, Grandmother continues, “Do not think it has been so many years that I cannot recall how you were when younger.”

Breighton closes her mouth reluctantly.

“Besides, his fiance is a wonderful influence on him,” Grandmother continues, turning to you with a smile you don’t expect. “I always knew that all Dale needed was a few years abroad to work through some of that youthful fickleness and a competent partner to become the man he could always become.”

You blush at both her words and the renewed focus Breighton bestows upon you. As before, you feel she can see every inch of you. She appears skeptical, but not enough to speak any of her thoughts aloud at this time.

You feel an odd kinship with Breighton, after all if Dale hadn’t had his accident, you’d agree with her skepticism because she would have been right. Grandmother is too indulgent of Dale, has such a strong belief in his better nature, and you can’t help but find yourself on Breighton’s side of things. Besides, perhaps with the right experiences, he would have become a better man.

But he didn’t.

“You’re too kind, Grandmother,” you reply, trying to focus on her instead.

“I am nothing of the sort. I will have you know they used to say such things about me in the House of Law,” she says with a wicked smile that reminds you of Dale these days more than anyone else. “Never to my face though. Why one time, this particular Duke opposed one of my measures and—”

Her story is interrupted by a commotion at the other end of the hall, the doors opening rather dramatically to admit what you realize is the returning hunting party. Relief that they are back sweeps through you, a smile growing unbidden on your face because you’ve missed Dale, more than you thought you would.

Then you take in the general countenance of the people arriving. They don’t look frightened or somber or grieving, but they look worried, talking in quiet murmurs and glancing at the dais and then back to those who are still coming.

It’s a sobering sight and you frantically look for the source of tension. No one’s grim enough for a death, but someone must have been injured, someone—.

The group parts to reveal a bedraggled looking figure held up by another. Grandfather walks beside them, looking rather like he’s been rung out and left to dry wrinkled. He has some darker mud stains on his clothing for all he appears to walk uninjured. With nothing immediately distressing in his person, your eyes narrow on the injured, far muddier looking figure. They widen even as your nerves paradoxically steady.

Because the danger you’ve been anticipating has finally been realized.

You gasp as you take Dale in. He’s not just muddy, but covered in blood. The left side of his overcoat is stiff with it and he’s favoring his right side in general. No cane to be seen, just a heavy lean on Mr. Murray, who’s seemingly half carrying him.

“Greetings!” Dale calls out and his voice is strong, but with a strange wobble to it. “We have returned victorious!”

Grandmother gasps as Grandfather and Dale come closer and she can see something of their appearance. A man breaks off from the group to hurry up to the dais and reassure her while Grandfather keeps pace with Dale and his valet. You are able to understand over the muted roar in your ears that it’s one of her sons, who’s trying to explain that they’re fine, just a little worse for wear.

Carefully working your way up his body, you catalog a large gash on his left leg, multiple tears on his trousers—dark stains you honestly aren’t sure the origin of: mud or blood. His overcoat is missing an arm and his actual arm is hard to look at. Honestly, you can’t even distinguish what’s wrong with it, just that it's a bloody mess. At least no visible bones appear to be sticking out nor does it appear to be at an odd angle. You’re certain he must be bruised but there’s certainly no way to tell from here.

You follow in Grandmother’s wake in a mild daze as she stands up and makes her way around the table, asking, “What are you thinking! Dragging my injured boy hither and yon.”

Dale went limp after he called out for the rest of the journey across the floor, as if his initial outburst had used up his remaining energy. Now that he’s only a few feet away, he picks his head up, looking around blearily as if the sound of their voices is drawing him back into the moment. His gaze lands on you first and his whole face, bruised as it is, lights up. Your heart lurches in response: both at his clear delight in seeing you and at how it pulls on the bruises and cuts on his face in a manner that must be painful.

“We took down a majestic stag, hart of eleven in the least,” he crows, seemingly not concerned with the state he’s wound up in. “Uncle has it, I think.” He turns to blink at his uncle, sees his empty hands, and frowns. “No, he hasn’t got it. Mayhap the Marquess or Alexanderer.”

“Yes, my congratulations,” you find yourself saying automatically, no idea how he’s not mentioning his injury. You try to keep your voice cheerful to match his own, even though inside you’re caught in turmoil. Now that you’re closer, you find yourself having to fist your hands in your skirts not to touch him, check him over for yourself.

Nothing about his appearance screams ‘demon’ and he can’t have revealed himself because they would have chained him up or set him on fire, not dragged him back here. But he seems sloppier when ill and you’re not sure if longer time spent injured might affect his ability to conceal himself soon. It feels like you’re on a clock and you need to know how much time is left. “Is that how you ended up like this?”

“What? Pftt,” Dale shakes his head and then raises his banged up arm to brace it. “Shouldn’t have done that. No, no I—this happened after. There was a boar, a biiiiig boar.”

“And what? You wrestled it?” Grandmother’s sharp voice cuts into your conversation and you both turn to her. You don’t expect her to look so brittle as she stares at her grandson, nearly having lost his life for the second time in as many weeks after being away from home for years. Of course, she doesn’t know he already has lost his life.

You resolve never to tell her because seeing her face right now is enough.

“Grandmother…” any easy delight is gone from Dale’s face. “I’m alright, I give you my word. Looks far worse than it is. I need a bath and some bandaging, that’s all.”

“Oh, Dale.” Grandmother wraps him in a hug as well as she can with him still leaning on his valet and her being quite a bit shorter than him. Dale accepts the affection with start and before it goes on too long, she straightens up. “You need a doctor. Why did you bring him back here instead of fetching a physician to you? Should he even be standing up?”

“Sending someone, or even a bird, back here to fetch a doctor and then waiting for them to join us would have taken far longer simply coming home,” Grandfather says sternly, obviously defensive regarding both his decision and from the fact that Dale was harmed on the hunt he was hosting. There’s something else about him though, a shock factor that no one else seems to have, that makes you nervous.

“I’m fine,” Dale insists once more, reaching out as if to pat Grandmother’s shoulder, but she’s already moved out of reach to find the nearest physician.

You catch his hand before he hurts himself or Mr Murray. He stares at you in surprise, as if having forgotten you were there, before grinning. “Wait until you see the stag and the boar. A very impressive hunt, if I do say so. Such an invigorating time. Why, I feel alive in a manner I haven’t for years.”

“What have you given him?” you ask without thinking and rather more sharply than you intend to because Dale does not talk like this.

You don’t take it back.

“Whiskey,” Grandfather replies gruffly. “No harm in that.”

You would beg to disagree, but hold your tongue for now. “No wonder his balance is off,” you can’t help but murmur under your breath as you shift to accommodate the weight he’s already leaning on you while he continues to look around, perhaps for his hunted game.

“His balance was not the concern at the time,” Grandfather says with a scowl, accepting a wet cloth from a servant and reaching over to try to wipe at Dale’s face. This close you can see some attempt has already been made, but the scratch on his forehead must have reopened in transit. “He was in pain.”

To his credit, Dale barely seems to notice anything’s wrong at all at the moment. You haven’t seen this Dale truly drunk, he’s avoided anything besides wine at dinner since his illness, but you wonder exactly what effect it’s having on him considering what he is.

“How did you even manage to get him back here?” Grandmother asks sharply, back from whatever she was arranging and clearly still not ready to let go of her displeasure that they brought Dale back to the estate instead of sending a message for someone to come to the lodge. “Did you strap him to his horse?”

The silence that follows her question answers it.

Grandmother huffs with displeasure before she starts herding Dale and his valet over to a chair that’s been brought down from the dais. Mr. Murray helps Dale detach himself from his own person and into the chair. Since you haven’t let go of Dale’s arm, you help guide him and keep his focus on you, when he seems able to focus at all. Accepting the bowl of water and towel offered to him, his valet begins to try to clean Dale off.

You don’t look away from Dale, too on edge to let him out of your sight, but you overhear Grandfather and Uncle Wellington explaining to Grandmother and a doctor what happened. Evidently when he went to finish off a boar they’d hunted down, it’d gotten free of the hold some of the hounds had on it. Dale had ended up on top of the boar and the others hadn’t been able to do much besides keep it corralled, too worried about striking Dale instead of the boar. Dale had managed to finish it off with his dagger in the end, but not before getting rather banged up.

You can sense movement from the corner of your eye and you look over from where you’re kneeling next to the chair to find a middle-aged man leaning over Dale—likely the doctor. He doesn’t spare you a glance, running his eyes over Dale’s form, lips moving as he mutters to himself. Without saying a word of warning, he reaches out and pulls Dale’s injured arm from your grip.

Any lethargy Dale has been feeling must be burn away at the sudden touch, because he yanks his arm out of the other man’s grasp before you can blink. He pushes the doctor away with his left arm, a strong flat palmed blow to the man’s chest. “Do not touch me,” Dale hisses, looking balefully at the stunned man. His voice is dark and full of anger, “I have not given you permission to touch my person. Who are you?”

The man sputters, gone pale and drawn at Dale’s sudden fierce attitude. “I’m a doctor, let me look—”

Dale’s glare intense. “Another physician who doesn’t know anything. Presumptuous, foolish, self-important. I don’t need any of your help.” He practically spits that last word and you wish now more than ever you knew exactly what had happened between him and the previous doctor he scared the wits out of. Mostly you’re worried he’s going to do something to expose himself. In a way you’ve forgotten about since seeing Dale’s injuries for the first time, you’re suddenly all too aware of all the people around you, that you’re in the middle of the largest hall with practically everyone in Northridge here for supper.

The doctor takes a step back, frightened or pride-stung, and no one reproaches Dale regarding his venom. Grandmother doesn’t even twitch towards him, continuing to give orders instead, “Ms Adir, please set to making bandages if someone else is not already doing so. I believe we have not replenished our supply since the cat incident nor am I aware of where we are with our preparation for the tournament.”

You have–to mollify yourself when you thought of the tournament ahead while feeling impotent about the hunt. “I’ve special bandages ready,” you volunteer.

“What sort of bandages? Special how?” Grandmother asks, frown evident in her voice.

“Woven with silver and lightly treated with blessed honey,” you reply. When you had trouble sleeping the last few nights, you’d sewn quite a lot of yardage to occupy your hands until more ready for sleep, despite the waste of candles to see by. More than enough for Dale’s injuries now.

With the guest physician still looking cowed, Grandfather turns to Breighton. She nods. “I’m no doctor, but I’ve friends who are and they say those are the best.”

It’s enough of a confirmation for Grandmother and you send your maid off with instructions for where to find your supplies. Behind you, you can hear the doctor recover from some of his fright and begin to request his own supplies. You don’t comment until you hear him mention willowbark. “No willowbark,” you correct. “Lord Dale is allergic.”

“No, he’s not,” Grandfather says, confused enough you look up at him.

“Yes, he is,” you say, knowing that ‘allergy’ might have to do with his new nature and hoping that isn’t a well-known sign of possession. You try to forget that might be the case so your delivery of the information is as natural as possible. “He told me so himself only a short while ago.”

“He never was before,” Grandfather says and you don’t understand the accusation in his voice. The way he almost glares at you, rather than Dale. Surely if he suspected something was wrong with Dale, if he’d seen something of what Dale now is on this hunt, that would be where his suspicion would lie. Right?

“It’s possible he developed an allergy recently,” the doctor says, inadvertently coming to your rescue. “It’s no hardship, there are other treatments.”

“Right,” Grandfather says gruffly, before deflating. He rubs his face with his hand. “My apologies, it's been a long few hours.”

“Thank you, sana,” Dale says, patting your arm with his injured one. “I knew I could count on you.”

You’d rather he not have gotten hurt at all, but you can’t deny the warmth, the pride that fills you at his words. You stroke his hand in reply. “Of course.”

[Part Twelve]

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onearmedlegend · 1 year

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I’m just imagining that Billy’s finally free of his father’s clutches; he’s gone to jail. The Mind Flayer is gone. Max was invited to the Byers for what they called a family dinner. But what didn’t make sense was that people unrelated to them were there? The little Byers’s friends and big Byers’s girlfriend. Oh, and the Police Chief. And Harrington. Basically everyone who hated him, great.

Except for that weird girl El. Who helped him more than he can ever say.

Max said she wanted to go, and Billy had no problem with that; there wasn’t a horrendous ‘curfew’ to be home by anymore. There wasn’t going to be any slurs and punches and throws and things (Billy) thrown around if they were late anymore. No skipping school for injuries or pretending bruises were from someone on the basketball team anymore.

But people were still scared of Billy around town. They knew of his father’s actions and were worried he’d be the same. Or they looked at him with pity as if they had any idea what happened between closed doors.

What used to be unfiltered, flirtatious, and longing stares and empty conversations—now were rapid flashes of glances before scurrying away to the safety of their homes. As if Hawkins was safe. Everybody was too scared to be out on the streets for too long before something in the nights, or god forbid day, swept them off to someplace terrible.

After that summer, more people were afraid. Billy understood. They didn’t, not really. But Billy did. And he was afraid for himself. Of what he could do, now that he saw what that thing did to him without permission. Without fear. Without care. Without a second thought.

So Billy kept his distance when they arrived. Max took off towards the Party, who were all hanging out in the living room. They were setting up the game of D&D or something, but Max watched and pretended to listen. She was pleasantly comforted by their presence. El looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back, and her head dropped to the board game at hand. Nobody else noticed.

Harrington was sitting on the ground next to the kids. Harrington took him by surprise; he wasn’t related to anyone here. He dated older Wheeler a while ago (a year now?), and she was with older Byers. Was he invited by Mrs. Byers? That got Billy’s head scratching.

But then he saw the curly-haired kid named Dustin look back at him and yell something. (It was more of a squawk, but whatever). Max shushed him and apologized to Steve with a smile, and Harrington shrugged her off, softly grinning. Sinclair, little Byers, and little Wheeler asked if he wanted to join, and he calmly said, “Nah, this isn’t my game. You kids go right on ahead.”

The older Byers was cozying older Wheeler on the couch. It was like they were in their own little world. Both of their eyes were glimmering at each other, or maybe that was all the Christmas lights shining from the Christmas tree. No matter what, Billy could tell they were where they wanted to be.

Mrs. Byers and the Chief were huddled in the kitchen arranging everything accordingly. It made Billy charmingly confused that a broad, intimidating man like the Chief was being fussed around by this anxious woman slapping his hand when he took a cookie off the plate. Billy slipped a chuckle but covered it up with a fake ‘clearing of the throat’.

That was when they all realized Billy was there. Time seemed to come to a halting scratch when they saw him. He offered a little wave and small, “Hello.”

The kids mumbled, “Hi, Billy.”

Older Wheeler and Older Byers almost glared at him behind their acknowledgments.

Harrington was more in shock rather than anything else.

Mrs. Byers ran up to him and greeted him with a squeeze of the shoulder.

The Chief took an apple, bit into it, and strode over to him with an unreadable but questioning stare. “How are you tonight, kid?”

“Good, sir. Yourself?”

“Good. Have you tried the cookies yet?”

Billy was frozen. “Oh, um. No?”

“Even better.” He leaned in and patted Billy’s shoulder. “There’s still plenty left.”

“Hopper!” Mrs. Byers exclaimed. “No eating cookies before dinner!”

Billy chuckled when the Chief shrugged and walked back into the kitchen.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist. A little voice could be heard into his jacket. “Hello, Billy!” Billy looked down and saw a little girl with blonde hair put into two ponytails hiding at his side.

Older Wheeler hopped off the couch and ran towards the little person hugged into Billy’s jacket. She pulled the girl off and got down to her eye level. “I’m so sorry! Holly, you can’t just ran up and hug people like that, it can scare them!”

“But,” her voice squeaked, “we were supposed to say hello with hugs!”

“Yes,” older Wheeler agreed, “but he didn’t see you!”

Billy cleared his throat. “It’s um…it’s okay. She’s all good.”

Older Wheeler looked surprised and relieved that Big Bad Billy wasn’t going to be pissed at her little sister. Her shoulders dropped as she sighed and got back up. Mrs. Byers called her into the kitchen just then. She walked away, with one last glance saying, “Thank you.”

Harrington walked up to the little girl, Holly, and swooped her into his grasp. He said, “Lookie here! Whatcha doin’, Holly? Hm?”

Holly giggled into his chest as she mumbled, “Nothing.”

Seeing Harrington being good with kids was one thing. Harrington being good with little kids made Billy’s heart skip something awful.

Billy’s face flushed as Harrington’s hair fell forward with a soft giggle. Harrington looked up at Billy and then Holly. She reached out towards Billy.

Steve’s eyes went big. “Ope, looks like she wants you to hold her. You got her?”

“Oh, um…I think so?”

“Billy!” Holly exclaimed and leaned forward, almost completely out of Steve’s hold. Billy held his arms out and arranged himself to hold her properly.

Billy looked at Holly as she started messing with her sweater sleeves. He smiled at her and asked, “That better, Holly?”

“Yes!” she laughed and hid in his neck.

“Yeah?” Billy asked in a lighter voice to meet hers.

“Yeah!” Holly leaned forward and hugged her little arms around his neck. Billy was caught off-guard by the gesture.

Harrington hid his smile behind his hand. His eyes softened when he realized Billy was hugging her a little tighter than before.

Billy’s eyes were tearing up faster by the minute. Harrington reached out his hand and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. They both shared a sad stare.

Because if Billy was crying over the fact a little kid trusted him, even after all of his actions that summer, that wasn’t anybody’s business but his and Harrington’s.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove #justalittlebitofharringrove #holly wheeler #she’s a sweetheart #joyce byers #nancy wheeler #the party #its a christmas miracle #billy hargrove deserved better #no but he would be so scared to hurt a little kid after S3 #but Holly Wheeler hugging him would make him burst into tears #What I’ve Done by Linkin Park was inspiration for this piece #harringrove if you squint #pre-harringrove

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clanoffelidae · 2 months

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As much as I totally get that the Master was being shown as a domestic abuser as much as they were allowed to for a family program in ‘The Last Of The Time Lords’, I choose to instead believe that he was just extremely reactive due to, you know, having just run away from a war that scared and traumatized him so severely that he disguised himself as a human at the END OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE in order to hide from it, and Lucy just tried to hug him from behind or something when he didn’t know she was there and so he immediately threw a punch on reflex; because it is infinitely funnier to me that way.

Lucy: -walking up behind the master- good morning hone- :)

The Master, an extremely anxiety-ridden and traumatized war veteran who just escaped said war: AH- -throws a punch on instinct-

Lucy:

The Master: DON’T FUCKING DO THAT

Lucy:

The Master: -clutching at his hearts as he tries to calm down-

Lucy: that’s it i’m shooting him

Like it’s just so much funnier to me that way. Free my man he did everything wrong but I don’t care.