#consensual pregnancy would mean quite the process

[homosexuhauls]

Feminists who make sensible, reasoned arguments in favour of autonomy and have calm debates with the anti-abortion crowd are amazing and I admire them and of course we need them to continue educating and informing, for the sake of the women and girls on the fringes of the discussion especially.

But ffs I do not CARE if the foetus is alive, or a person, or a baby, or anything else. If something is in my body and I do not want it there, it is not staying inside me. I am not a vessel. I am not obligated to grow a new human with my own body and its resources.

"Consent to heterosexual sex is consent to pregnancy but also if you're raped don't blame the ickle baby and abort." Sure. Hence abortion. Hence contraceptives. Solutions are invented when there are problems to be solved. Whether those problems are natural or created or even self-inflicted is irrelevant.

"Mothers have an obligation to their children." And yet, those who seek abortions should be prepared to choose adoption as a satisfactory alternative. So which is it, are we dutiful mothers from the moment of conception or are we supposed to be happy performing unwanted reproductive labour for adoptive parents? Are we cattle or are we dogs?

"You're killing your baby." I don't care if it's an endangered Amur leopard cub tbh, it's not staying there. I am not a mother and I do not want to reproduce. I have seen motherhood. I think mothers are incredible, as a group and often as individuals. I also think unwanted motherhood is the cruelest fate imaginable, for both woman and child.

Bottom line is, there is no scenario where it is more ethical to force a woman or girl through pregnancy and birth than it is to safely terminate said unwanted pregnancy. No amount of guilt-tripping or moralising or misinformation or provocative rhetoric can outweigh my right to choose not to be pregnant.

(Also personally I would terminate myself if I couldn't access termination for an unwanted pregnancy. So I guess the foetus would still technically end up aborted lol. You ain't growing from me, sunshine.)

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so Anakin's conception was, in some manner, related to Dark Sithly Rituals by Plagueis and Sidious. Given that their ritual was "increase darkness" and Anakin was born after, the easy interp is that the Force went "eeeeeeeeeeeeyikes let me try to balance your bullshit with this Nice Young Man, very very far from You."

HOWEVER another option, because Legends is only quasi-canon and so I get to do what I want, is that they were TRYING to make a super-powerful Force baby happen, and the genes had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was most likely Sidious (since Plagueis is, in fact, a Muun), so Anakin's biological dad is Palpatine because Force Shenanigans.

This is mostly not relevant to anything except a tabloid takes interest in why the Chancellor is so invested in this Random Jedi kid and theories pop up. The easiest assumption is Grooming, but a few throw around 'illegitimate child' as an option, just for kicks. A bored assassin runs a quick heist to get blood samples.

The truth comes out, mostly because the assassin goes "shit, do the Jedi know this? I think I can let them know through Jettster," and does that.

And Anakin.

Poor, little Anakin.

Hears "Palpatine is your biological father" and it pings off of "you have no father" and "my mom was a slave when I was conceived" and enters "Palpatine paid to have sex with a slave, or was bribed with the act, and either way it's rape; the Chancellor raped my mom?"

Because like. Chancellor's a rich dude and Shmi was a slave and there is no way for that to be consensual in the slightest, especially since he didn't even bother to free her.

Which is. Not what anyone wanted and nobody will believe Sheev's claims that he's never met Shmi Skywalker because, well, the proof is right there. He only agreed when the Jedi requested a blood test if it was through his own medical droids (so his midicount wouldn't pop up) and because he rightly thought that he'd never met Shmi in his life and couldn't possibly be Anakin's biological father.

Except he is.

Anyway, Obi-Wan refuses to let Anakin be summoned to the Chancellor's office, mostly because he refuses to let them have contact for Anakin's sake, and partly because he's like 60% sure that a meeting would start with screaming and tears and then progress to a murder attempt and he really does not need his apprentice getting arrested for trying to kill the Supreme Chancellor.

(It's murder and not assassination since the motivation was explicitly personal and not political, But.)

Someone gets to Shmi and she looks at a photo and goes "I've never met this man in my life."

Which people choose (understandably) to believe means she was drugged, except Shmi insists that she remembers all her time, and she'd been very paranoid about it all because Mystery Pregnancy, and obviously the tabloids start drama about memory erasure.

From @atagotiak when I first floated this idea on discord:

Also on Anakin’s side of things, the conclusion he drew would be pretty supported by how Shimi was very insistent on there not being a father. Because sure you could take the literal interpretation of immaculate conception, or you could assume she just didn’t want to talk about the bio father Which means he’s either dead or she doesn’t want him in the picture. Or maybe just not in the picture for less nefarious reasons, but still. Also the rumours about all of this would not be helped by how interested Palps was in Anakin. Like. That implies that whatever happened, Palpatine was aware of his connection to Anakin (which I guess he was, sorta, so that’s accurate) Just “you knew and you didn’t go back for her?” Or something like that Even if he wasn’t implicated in something worthy of removal, his public approval rating would probably take quite the hit.

Palpatine's having a horrible time. (Dooku isn't answering his calls until this blows over.)

Somehow in this whole process, the Jedi get involved because if the current Chancellor purchased the sexual services of a slave while he was a Senator, that's a violation of [legal mumbo jumbo about what political representatives are allowed to do while outside the Republic], and that means he needs to be removed as Chancellor immediately.

And Sheev is just like "I WAS HERE THAT ENTIRE MONTH" except, well, he DID disappear for a week or so to do Sithly Things and people are just like AH HA.

All this because an assassin was reading tabloids and thought getting a Chancellor Blood Sample would be a neat challenge

IDK how they got it. Hacked a med droid, probably. Didn't ping the Sith Senses because it wasn't actually a murder attempt or malicious or greedy, just really bored.

Padme probably reaches out to Anakin. Partly to make sure he's doing okay and partly to apologize for nobody in her government knowing about this.

[everything-laito]

if I don’t have tendinitis by the end of writing this series, I am officially immortal. anyways here’s the long awaited Laito and Cordelia analysis: Part I

Hi, Corn here! Holy shit I’ve been wanting to write this for forever now; idk how long this series will be but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I’m gonna wing it.

Lemme get something REAL clear before I begin. Because for some fucking reason I still see people trying to say that Cordelia did not molest/rape/etc Laito. Cuz she did. It’s called grooming and manipulation, sweetie. And I’ll explain that too. 

Also, I’m not defending or justifying Cordelia’s actions (there’s a difference between explaining why something happens and defending it. For example, we know racism is harmful and awful, but explaining what it is and why it happens isn’t defending it). I also don’t defend Laito’s nonconsensual or abusive actions either on here, I also wanna clarify that. I just merely explain his theorized rationale and psyche.

God I don’t even know where to start, or where this is exactly going to end, but my god, time to pop off. I’m going to divide this into sections as well. 

Also I think this is usually a given with all the Laito stuff I put on here, but, spoilers ahead! And trigger warnings galore! Pedophilia/rape/abuse/grooming/depression/anxiety are the ones I can think of now, but all of those are really a given on this blog. Just wanna emphasize it because I’m gonna go deep into em. 

As always,,,,, rant under the cut~!

Section 1: Before the Storm (insert Life is Strange joke here)

There’s quite a bit of back and forth about where Cordelia started doing this. I just finished Dark Fate and the conversation between the triplets caught my eye. Laito mentions in his Dark Fate Ecstacy Epilogue that implies Cordelia wasn’t abusive at first. It’s revealed how Karlheinz used Cordelia just for his Adam and Eve experiment to create a new human race, which is why he blatantly ignores her after courting her and making her have kids that she didn’t even wanna have. Which is. Yikes. I’d say that’s a form of coercive pregnancy abuse.

The conversation turns to Laito who then says that Cordelia lost her mind due to of sexual frustration and then hurt the triplets. Sexual frustration is a real and common thing, but I’m gonna explain the potential logistics of this being turned into abuse. 

Sexual frustration in general can be described as a sense of “dissatisfaction stemming from a discrepancy between a person’s desired and achieved sexual activity” (source). I know it’s from Wikipedia but the phrasing of that definition is just too perfect. (also Wikipedia’s good just to get the basics from ;) ) Sexual frustration can happen from physical, mental, emotional, social, religious, or spiritual barriers. Everyone has some kind of ideal sexual activity, whether it be innate and or learned (like getting used to sexual acts over time, whether that be from a traumatic or consensual experience). However, I can safely say that Cordelia has high libido, regardless of the reason. 

Oxytocin, my absolute favorite hormone to talk about, is huge in this case. Touch starvation (what I’d say most of us are going through now because of quarantine) also depends on oxytocin level. We’re social creatures, and we need touch in some way. Having sexual needs is also not a thing to be shameful of (if you do have them), since that is also very human and very biological. Oxytocin is needed for so many things! From social bonding, sexual bonding, reproduction in general, and general emotional wellbeing. Everyone has different levels of oxytocin needs. With a lack of oxytocin, whether it causes sexual frustration or touch starvation (or both), it can create fear, anxiety, and or depression. This has to do with my favorite part of the brain, the amygdala. It’s this lil almond shaped part (hence, amygdala, which is Latin for “almond”) is responsible for empathy, your fight and flight response, as well as SO many other things. I’ll talk more about the amygdala later, because I’m getting off track. 

Back to the logistics of oxytocin deficiency and abuse. Basically, I didn’t initially think that touch starvation or sexual frustration could get so bad that someone would resort to abuse. Haven’t found anything that supports that either. However, since it is linked to depression and stress, I do believe Cordelia would have other underlying psychological issues that made her response to depression and stress just so much worse. It’s kind of obvious that Karlheinz absurd her, and when someone goes through a traumatic episode, there’s different coping mechanisms or different emotions are triggered. Maybe even before Karlheinz she had issues, but we will never know. I just know that Cordelia seems susceptible to some kind of manic episodes, such as mood swings and intense behaviors. 

Dark Fate confirms that Karlheinz most likely used this, and used Cordelia due to her Founder blood and that her psyche was “optimal” to eventually have the triplets kill her. Karl can see the future and past etc, I believe that was confirmed in Lost Eden too. Anyways, all of this paves the way to what Cordelia did to the triplets.

Section 2: The Beginning

There’s been quite a bit of back and forth between when did Cordelia start sexually abusing Laito? We know that Kanato and Ayato were abused when they were young, but there’s no flashbacks in Laito’s routes that depicts him being a child (to my knowledge). Not saying Laito wasn’t abused when he was a child, but I can assure you that the first time Cordelia had explicit sex with Laito was when he was older. 

Special thanks to @vampiretsuki​ and @amiecris​ for helping me think this through on Zara’s server! 

There hasn’t been any flashbacks that specifically show us the first time that happened. However, I believe that there was a flashback in HDB that shows one of the first times. Here’s a scene from Laito’s Dark Epilogue:

Cordelia: ー Laito…Laito… Laito: …Hm? Is something the matter? Cordelia: I have a favor to ask. It just isn’t enough. You can do it, right Laito? Laito: You really are something…So that’s why you came to me again? Cordelia: Fufufu…That’s right, Laito. Come on, quickly… Laito: …Guess it can’t be helped. I’ll love you plenty. Cordelia: Aah…My cute Laito~ I love you. I really do. Laito: I can do it…right? Cordelia: Of course, Laito. Now, quickly…

First of all, ew. Second of all, Laito’s diction implies that this was maybe the second or third time this occurred. He asks a question, and ends it with “again.” We know by this that it is not the first time, but the question also means that Laito might not have expected to occur again. His tone also implies some surprise to it, at least in my ears. His other question, “I can do it, right?” screams hesitance to me. If this scene took place down the line, or after many times he did this with Cordelia, I don’t believe he’d be some level of surprised or hesitance. 

Now, you may be thinking, “Oh! What about Ayato and Laito’s Versus II CD?! Didn’t it mention that Laito wasn’t in the triplet’s shared bed 9/10 times?!” And yeah, if you remembered that, kudos to you! Yes, you’re totally right. I thought this was some inconsistent writing, but I don’t believe so. I believe Cordelia was grooming Laito as a kid. For some reason, grooming never came to my mind, it was Tsuki who mentioned grooming, and Cris also backed that notion up. It’s not confirmed if Cordelia planned to do this to Laito in the beginning (which I doubt, I think she sexually exploited him on a whim due to sexual frustration and because Karl wouldn’t; and the suitors she had wasn’t “enough” for her) but I think it’s implied that it happened (from the earlier excerpt). As for grooming, here’s an excerpt from the VS II CD:

Ayato: You weren’t even there 9 out of the 10 times. Laito: So you knew, Ayato-kun. Ayato: … Laito: You know, I have been thinking how I came to be the person I am today. I am still wondering why wasn’t it Ayato-kun or Kanato-kun.

God that’s so SAAAD! This is why Laito being groomed from a young age would make sense. It would also make sense as to why he was so dismissive and hesitant to help Ayato out. In Ayato’s flashbacks, Laito is there, but doesn’t interfere when Cordelia gets into the picture. Laito tends to run away from his problems, and this manifests even when he’s a kid. To further the support of the claim, it’s definitely not farfetched that Cordelia would do something to a child, especially her own child. She used Kanato for his singing voice when she was having sex..... yikes. That’s another form of sexual exploitation. So uh, let’s dive right into see what grooming does,,,,, *opens another private window* Here’s the source I’ll be using too. 

Grooming is a process that is typically used to sexually exploit children. Ewewewewewewew. It can be a quick or gradual process. It’s basically harnessing the trust in children utilizing constant contact. There’s not much explicit evidence describing this with Cordelia, but if Laito wasn’t sexually exploited when he was younger in the fashion he was “used” to when he got older, again I do think he was groomed. It would make sense as to why he either avoided conflict with Cordelia as a child. Either that was his own disposition (which to a degree I think it is), or maybe he was confused about Cordelia’s actions towards his other brothers, since he “loved” Cordelia. Young Laito typically fell silent when Cordelia entered the room, which again could be because of his disposition, fear, or he knows not to say much in front of her. 

During the grooming process, a child can result in not being able to see coercion and deception. In general, kids 7 years old and under biologically are not able to differentiate persuasion from their own decisions, which results in the laws surrounding advertisements catering to children. Fun fact. I know we’re dealing with vampires and so their brains might not work like that, but from what I’ve seen, they’re pretty human. Also, we’re still not sure about their ages or how vampire biological ages work, but bear with me on this. 

Another stage of grooming involves cutting off the child’s support system, whether it be family, friends, etc. I made a comment in an analysis that Laito doesn’t have a support system, and at the very least, his brothers. But even that is pretty weak. You know how it’s mentioned how Laito wasn’t even in bed with Ayato and Kanato most of the time? That’s probably due to Cordelia weakening Laito’s bonds with them. Furthermore, on the website I’m using to get information from, it says this:

Control and alienation is exercised in the following ways:

[more bullet points here]

- creating conflicting feelings of love and hate, protection and exploitation, guilt and innocence, entitlements and duties.

OOOOOHHHHHH BBBBBOOOOOYYYYYY!!!!! Ayato and Kanato say that they fucking hate Cordelia. But... Laito’s the only one that says he “loves” her. He also says that he hates her. So, from this, I think it might be safe to say that Cordelia groomed Laito as a child, and continued to use those tactics when he was older.

Well, I’m gonna end it here for part one. That was quite the ride, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! Next part, we’ll be getting into Laito when he’s older and the effects it had on him, along with some other crazy dark sides of psychology. I still won’t be answering many of my inbox questions until this huge analysis is finished, sorry! I kinda wanna focus on this first. But feel free to hit me up with any questions! I’ll still get to them :)

Any Cordelia/Laito questions will most likely be answered in this series, just a heads up. But if you have any questions pertaining to Cordelia/Laito right now or after the series, feel free to hit me up still! Any clarifying questions for this post or anything in general are always encouraged as well if you’re confused or want me to elaborate on something :)

Part two is planned to be up next week! See ya then ;) -Corn

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Five

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.

While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.

Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.

Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.

Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.

Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”

His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”

“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”

Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”

Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”

“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”

Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.

"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!

"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.

"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.

Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.

The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.

"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."

"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.

Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"

"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.

She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.

"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”

Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!

"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.

"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"

Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.

Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."

This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.

Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.

"Oh shit!"

°°°

A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.

Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.

"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

"And you are...?"

Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."

Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.

Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.

"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."

"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."

"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"

Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.

"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.

Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“

Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."

"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.

"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.

“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.

A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”

Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.

°°°

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.

"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."

"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."

Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."

Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."

"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"

"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."

The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"

What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.

"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.

°°°

He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.

“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”

Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.

“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”

Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”

If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.

°°°

Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!  

“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.

With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”

“No, the charges were dropped.”

Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.

As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."

Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.

"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.

With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."

Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.

With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"

"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.

Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.

Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.

“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”

Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“

Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.

As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.

He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”

“Tenders and fries.”

Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.

Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.

Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.

Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.

“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”

°°°

There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.

°°°

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​

[nite-shay]

His Hero Part 4 (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

A/N: I don’t know if I’m completely happy about this chapter. I’m trying to get better with witting panic/anxiety/non-humor, so hopefully, next time, it’ll be a little better. Also, sorry for the long time off and just sporadic posting. Works been hell, but now that we’ll hopefully *grain of salt* were getting more people hired, I’ll have more motivation and time to write 

Warnings: Panic/anxiety , references to sex and/or sexual acts (nothing descriptive but suggestive) so I guess 18+? IDK how this works :/ If yer too young, offended by sex , sexual acts, sexual reference or don’t know where babies come from, please don’t read.

Word count: 3K 

Other then that, please enjoy! :D  

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

*****

Kirishima didn’t protest when Fat sent him home for the day. 

‘Go home. Clear your head. Call me if you need anything.’ 

Honestly, he barely heard his mentor’s words. He just sat there staring at the screen. Watching, pausing, rewinding, and watching again. Over and over again. It wasn’t until Fat picked him up and carried him to the door, did he finally get the memo.

Yeah... he didn’t need to be here right now...

The trip home was nothing but a blur, and honestly, he remembered nothing about it. His body was on autopilot as his mind tried to wrap the possibility that he might have a kid. 

A kid… A son… Your son… His son? But… How? Err… Wait! 

Ok, he knows the ‘how’ of how kids are made. 

Better phrasing, how could this have happened!? He was always careful with anyone he was with! Err, not that was a really long list or anything. Typically, he was only intimate with someone he’s known for a while, and when he was, he’d use a condom, or they were on the pill. 

Oh fuck. How could he have let this happen!?!?

Calm down. Calm down. 

Maybe he was just overthinking everything? It could just be a coincidence. Sure, he and the kid have some similarity, but hey, there’s like, billions of people on the planet! So some are bound to look alike! That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re related, right? Total chance! That’s it! It’s that stuff we learned in school. Static? No, that’s not right; that was in science. The other thing was in math...Statistics! Yeah, that’s it!

So what if the kid has red eyes? His best bud Katsuki does too! 

The sharp teeth? Look no further than his gym bro Tetsu! Hell, depending on the quirk, it can be a super common trait!

The quirk being exactly like his... well, ok, that was… odd. And yeah, he hasn’t run into any with his quirk specifically, but, big but, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there with his quirk! 

Or maybe it’s not his quirk! Maybe its a similar one! Really, really, reeeealllly similar.

Total coincidence! Anyone can have those traits!

He just… happens to have all of them… just like the kid… whose mother he just happened to have slept with… around six years ago… 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. The air got thinner, making it harder for him to breathe. He jumped off the couch and started pacing. He’s had issues with anxiety for years, and one thing he did learn, when he got like this, he needed to move.

Breath and walk. Breath and walk. Breath and….wait! The kid can’t be more than five! He slept with you six years ago! Ha! The time doesn’t match up! So he can’t be his kid!

His legs felt like jello as the waves of panic finally came to a halt, and took a deep, much-needed deep breath.

He wasn’t a father.

This was a good thing. A great thing!

He doesn’t have a kid. The time frame didn’t add up. He was in the clear.

He should feel happy. Relief. Ecstatic!

So why did he feel like he just got punched in the gut? 

He sighed as he made his way to his fridge in search of something to calm his nerves. Beer isn’t his typical drink of choice, but he was glad he kept a few on hand in moments like this. Since he was single and didn’t have a roommate, his place was the place of choice for ‘bro’s night.’ 

Though sometimes, there was nothing like a cold one to just chill after a long hard day.

He grabbed one of the glass bottles by the neck, activated his quirk, and flicked the lid off with his thumb. Cool little party trick he learned a few years back. 

As he tilted the drink back, he took a long hard swallow and let his mind wander. The beer of choice today was one Katsuki preferred. It was good, smooth going down, and less alcohol content. Which was fine. Ochaco, even after giving birth, still couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. Pregnancy wasn’t a subject Kirishima knew a lot about, but he knew enough to respect it. 

He’d seen her hauling ass many adays to the toilet of the slightest whiff of something she didn’t like.

Then the cravings came along, which prompted a few late-night trips to the store by Katsuki or himself if his bro was at work. 

He chuckled as he thought about the few times Katsuki had said something to piss her off and sent him over to the redhead’s place for the night. Only to call him back a little while later in tears because of mood swings. 

Towards the end was rough, though. She’d been put on bed rest and was in a lot of pain. Katsuki took fewer shifts during that time to stay home and help ease her in any way he could. 

Damn, she went through all that for, what almost a year? Maybe not quite a year, but it had to be close. 

Was it nine or maybe ten months?

His brain came to a screeching halt, mid-swallow as he started calculating.

Beer spewed out of his mouth and nose as he tried to breathe and swallow at the same time. 

The nine months adds almost a year! *Cough* Meaning the kid’s age would make sense! *Cough Cough*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It can’t be true, can it? He… He’d used protection… hadn’t he?

His mind raced as he thought back to that night six years ago.

It was Izuku’s birthday and his girlfriend, future wife Melissa, rented out a small private Terence at a hotel to celebrate. It was small, maybe fifteen people max: just some friends, family, and a few colleges of the green-haired hero.

He was having a few drinks while chatting with Denki and Hanta when he first saw you. That was when he first saw you… You were chatting with your Melissa and Izuku, and damn… he couldn’t stop staring at you. You were so beautiful, and the way you tried to hide your angelic smile every time you laughed made his heart skip a beat. 

Eventually, his two friends figured out just what or who had caught his attention. Which brought on a relentless amount of teasing. It took about twenty minutes, a few beers, and an angry blonde for him to finally make his way over to you.

Katsuki, at some point, approached his childhood friend, then proceeded to yell at him for some reason or another. Even on his birthday, the guy couldn’t catch a break. Now that he thought about it, it was over something All Might related. Something about a suit and which version was from what era? You were looking rather uncomfortable (Melissa was used to this) at the aggressive (mainly Katsuki) debate. That’s where he came in. With the help of Ochaco and Melissa, he finally got the two distracted enough to send them to opposite corners of the party. 

And then, he was left all alone with you.

He was so nervous that he even stumbled through his own name. Luckily, he played off his nervousness by making light of his two friends. To his surprise, you took his jokes in stride and even had a few comebacks of your own. 

The two of you must have talked for over an hour! Just one conversation after another. He’d never met anyone like you before. You were just so loving, kind, and just… wow!

Then things start to get a little fuzzy.

He remembered talking, drinking, joking, more talking, and more drinking. 

A weird memory of a drunk Denki yelling, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!” before face planting into the punch bowl. 

Then while everyone’s attention was on Denki, the two of you snuck away and back to his room. 

A makeout session on the elevator leads to the two of you missing his floor and shocking an elderly housekeeping lady. That was embarrassing but didn’t seem to stop the two of you.

Then things get really, really blurry, but somehow the two of you made it back to his room without any other incidents. 

While the rest of his memories were bits and pieces, but he… did remember the most of the ‘activates,’ and it’d been consensual, and yeah… he’d definitely used protection! That much he remembered!

The next thing he knew, it was the next morning, where he woke up alone, with a hangover, and felt better than he had in awhile. 

Too bad that feeling didn’t get to last. His phone rang not long after he woke up. It’d been work, a villain was causing trouble, and they needed him asap. 

He showered, dressed, grabbed his stuff, and left. 

Then… he’d gotten hurt… bad…

Ended up in the hospital for nearly a week. 

After he got out, he, well, had an interesting voicemail and charge on his credit card.

He blushed hard as he remembered the hotel’s message regarding the ‘damages’ done to the room. In particular, the ones done to the sheets and headboard. They even sent him pictures!

Damn, he couldn’t believe he lost control of his quirk like that. He hadn’t done that since… well, since his ‘first time.’ That was so embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn’t think he’d hurt you in the process. Of all the pictures and list of damages, blood-stained sheets weren’t listed. Maybe that’s why he never worked up the courage to reach out to you. Even if he didn’t hurt you, he might have scared you...

Wait….

He lost control of his quirk.

Oh… OH SHIT! Realization dawned on him.

Even if he had put a condom on, his quirk might have damaged it!

Then that means… there is a chance he's the father of your son!

FFFFFUCCCCKK!!!!

But wait.

If he really was your son… why haven’t you contacted him?

His footsteps slowed until he came to a standstill.

You would have told him if he was, wouldn’t you?

Granted, the two of you never exchanged numbers, and we’ll it’s not like he did much to reach out to you either, but… You would have known he’s friends with Izuku, so you knew a way to contact him. 

Two-way street, buddy. He internally lashed himself.

Between racking his brain and scolding himself, he didn’t hear the knock on his door until the visitor started pounding. 

“Oi! Shifty hair! Answer the damn door!” A loud, brash voice that could only belong to one person yelled through the abused door.

Katsuki? Why was he here?

Kirishima hurried over to the door before the blonde got too impatient and blew it down… again. He took a deep breath and put on his brightest and cheerful grin before opening the door to greet his grumpy best friend. 

“Oh hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” 

“Don’t bro me! Why the hell am I getting called from your boss to check up on you?” He growled.

“Fat called you?” That was a surprise. 

“Yeah, he did. Had to switch my patrol around and everything.” He brushed past the redhead, letting himself in. Kirishima sighed as he shut the door behind them. 

“I’m really sorry about that. Not sure wh-”

“Don’t start that bullshit with me.” Those fierce red eyes locked on to him. “And drop that fake ass smile. Always hated when you did that shit.” He mutters.

Damn, Fat just had to go and call him of all people. 

If it’d been anyone else, anyone at all, he could play this off. A bright grin, crack a joke or two, maybe a few reassuring words, and he could send them on their way. 

But not him.  No, not Katsuki. Most people wouldn’t in a million years think the aggressive blonde could show anything other than anger. And yeah, the guy was rough around the edges, and he wasn’t the best with words. But nonetheless, here he was. 

And sometimes, that’s all that mattered.

Fuck. 

“So why am I here?” Katsuki wasn’t backing down, so Kirishima took a deep breath.

“What did Fat tell you?” While his smile didn’t waver, he felt his stomach belly flop to the floor. 

“Bastard would spill it, just said you’d need me right and to get over here. Now what the fuck is going on?” While he still sounded angry, there was an underline concern in his tone that most people tend to miss. 

Who would have known that would be the thing to make him crack? Well, obviously, Fatgum knew, hence why he sent the blonde over. The great explosive hero was one of the few people that could blow a hole right through his hardened armor. 

Both figuratively and literally.

With tears in his eyes, he dropped his bright grin and let the damn of emotion bust. He explained everything that had happened. The robbery, the hospital, you, your son, the night he first met you, the security footage, everything! Hell, he was sure he went into a little too much detail when he described you and that night.

The blonde just stood there shell shocked as he tried to absorb the word vomit hurled at him. 

“S-so, yeah… I might… have a…” he couldn’t finish. He just let the silence hang between them. 

“You… dumbass.” He sighed quietly, running his hand through his hair before looking him right in the eyes. While his best friend was known far and wide to have a temper, when shit got real, it was eerie how calm and focused he was. “Are you sure he’s your?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean-”

“Have you talked to the mother?”

“N-No!” 

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” He pressed. “Does anyone else think you’re the father?”

“No! Well, Fat might, but that’s cause he was with me when I put the piece together. But I haven’t told or asked anyone else about this. Honestly, other than the mother, I don’t even know who else to go-” The redhead piped up. Something flashed in his friend’s eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he was ready to commit murder. Fuck was he made? He hadn’t come to him about this yet!? Of course, he was! He was finding this out because his boss called him, not because he had called him! Some friend he is... “I was totally going to call you about this! I swear! You’re my best friend. This just happened so suddenly!”

“I know you would, Ei. Chill.” The blonde’s features soften for a second, soothing the redhead some. But he could tell Katsuki was trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m not mad at you but, I’ll ask again. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I only found out about this today, and I haven’t had any contact with (Y/N) since the other day and well at Izuku’s birthday party.”

“Ok. Stay here for a bit. You need to calm down. We need more information first. If he isn’t your kid, you’re losing your shit for nothing. And if he is... well,” He paused, “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” He pushed the hero towards the couch and made him sit down. “I need to make a phone call.” 

Kirishima blinked as his best friend made his way towards his front door. “NOW SIT THERE. SHUT UP AND CALM DOWN!”

*SLAM*

This was a new level of anger for the blonde. He couldn’t stand seeing the redhead like this. He felt even worse, leaving him alone like this. The damn guy lived off socialization with others, so for him to be facing this alone. 

Yeah... it really pissed him off.

The blonde stomped his way back to his apartment, which was just a few doors down. He did need to make a phone call; he hadn’t been lying. But it was a call, that big, dense red rock didn’t need to hear. 

Fuck. He couldn’t believe this. Did shitty hair really have a kid? 

Katsuki made his way inside his home. The home he shared with not only his wife but his newborn daughter. 

Fuck. He has a kid… and he never even knew. 

As he made his way through the foyer and into the living room, something caught his eye. Something black, orange, green, and tiny laid on top of a basket of unfolded laundry. It was the custom design onesie Momo had gotten for their daughter as a baby shower gift. The custom design was made to look like his hero costume. While he scoffed at the thing initially, he made sure that she wore home from the hospital. 

Well, tried. About halfway through the hospital parking lot, she decided now was the best time to need a diaper and outfit change. 

Little brat. He smirked.

If you’d ask him a few years ago what he thought of kids, he would have brushed it off, not really caring about it. His hero career was his focus. He needed no had to be number one. 

But now that he has a little one of his own, he realized there was more to life than being number one. Was he still going to do it? You bet your ass, but now that he has his wife and his child that climb to the top well, he couldn’t dream of making it there without them. 

He couldn’t imagine a world without her. Let alone a world where he didn’t realize she existed.

He whipped out his phone and thumbed through his contacts.

Especially if someone knew about them. 

He took a deep breath and hit send.  

Someone close to not only the kid but himself. 

And still not tell him.

He knows. There’s no way in hell that precipitative little shit doesn’t know!

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“K-Kacchan. This is a surprise. You never call. Is everything-” Katsuki cut him off. 

“We need to talk. Now.” 

****

Links: Part 1,  Part 2 ,  Part 3, Part 4

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01 ,  @simpforeveryone , @remember-happy-things 

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

--

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

--

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

--

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

--

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

--

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

--

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

--

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

--

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

--

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

--

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

--

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

--

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

--

--

--

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

[thebluelemontree]

The thing about jonquils...

They belong under the same umbrella genus of bulb flowers known as the narcissus.  The common name for most narcissus species is a daffodil, but generally speaking, when people say daffodil, they mean the yellow or white trumpet-like flower with flat leaves.  The jonquil (narcissus jonquilla) is a specific type of daffodil that blooms in clusters and are known for their strong sweet fragrance. 

The color jonquil yellow refers to a true golden yellow as displayed by the flower.  

Neither narcissus or daffodil are ever mentioned in ASOIAF either as flowers or names, but jonquil notably does in the tales and songs of the lovers, Florian and Jonquil.  Sansa has been dubbed the Jonquil of the series by the false Florian, Dontos Hollard.  It’s a song that is not only Sansa’s favorite but one that follows her around through her arc.  The choice of the jonquil flower for Sansa is deliberate for its characteristics and meaning.

Jonquils and daffodils are flowers that signify the beginnings of spring, being among the first to bloom after the winter snows melt.  By her skillset and character arc, Sansa is a solid contender for being a survivor of the series, so the name Jonquil fits well with that possibility of making it through ADOS.  By that logic, perhaps so does her love Florian the Fool with his flower connotations.  My analysis of Sansa and her Florian are explained in detail here.  

The golden yellow color of the jonquil flower is one that significant to Sansa as well.  

“The three dogs on our banner are the three that died, in the yellow of autumn grass...”  

“In the end she chose a simple velvet ribbon in autumn gold. When Gretchel fetched her Lysa's silvered looking glass, the color seemed just perfect with Alayne's mass of dark brown hair.”

“The dress she picked was lambswool, dark brown and simply cut, with leaves and vines embroidered around the bodice, sleeves, and hem in golden thread.”

Autumn is not the time for daffodils and jonquils, but it is the time when the bulbs are planted so they may bloom in late winter/early spring.  

And more gold associations:

It colors her vision like a veil over her eyes.  “Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold.”  Sansa can only see the splendor and pageantry that was “better than the songs.”  Sandor will later enlighten her to the truth that Ser Hugh’s death was no accident. 

The gold Sandor Clegane won for his heroic deed in saving Ser Loras at the tourney of the Hand, prompted by Sansa’s compassion and their conversation on knighthood.  That gold is stolen by the BwB, so Sandor takes the “little gold squirrel” Arya (named so by Greenbeard) instead to deliver to Catelyn and Robb.  He does this in hopes of joining Robb’s army, presumably to march on KL and free Sansa, raising his station a little closer to hers in the process.    

The gold Dontos Hollard, the false Florian, sold her out for.

The lessons of "lies and Arbor gold" that Petyr teaches her, which she uses on him in return.  "Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. "I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?"

The bounty of golden dragons for her capture, where she is even referred to as the gold itself.  "A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons.”   

Floriography utilizes the language of flowers to communicate various messages to others.  The idea is nothing new as it is also present in Shakespeare’s plays, for example; however, it became a wildly popular practice during the Victorian period and has mostly stuck around.  Think of Loras’s cloak of forget-me-nots displayed in front of his true love, Renly, while he hands out meaningless roses to the girls at the Hand’s tourney.  The common consensus of meaning for daffodils and jonquils are as follows:  

Daffodils are connected with “regard,” “chivalry,” and one would use them to signify that "love is unrequited."  The perfect flower for courtly romance where a knight must only love a lady from afar or channel his feelings into service.  But as I said, daffodils are not mentioned in ASOIAF.

Jonquils, on the other hand, express a desire for affection to be returned, which fits with Sansa’s wish to be loved for herself.  It is also used to signify a “requited love,” the opposite of the daffodil.  In can also convey “sorrow” and “sympathy,” which Sansa has in spades. 

In numerous other metas, readers have made a credible case for Sansa as a Persephone character.  Persephone, daughter of Demeter, was kidnapped by Hades, the god of the underworld by way of a narcissus.  Persephone was attracted by some narcissus flowers, which lured her away from her nymph companions.  When she pulled them out of the ground, a chasm opened up to the underworld and Hades emerged to steal her away.  Dontos uses the story of Florian and Jonquil (our narcissus flowers) to lure Sansa away to be eventually taken under false pretenses by Petyr Baelish, who will only allow her to return home on his terms.  Very Hades indeed.  Persephone’s Roman counterpart Proserpina, whose name means ”to emerge” or “to creep forth” may account for the golden vines and leaves on Sansa’s dress as a nod to Proserpina.        

Along this same vein, the perfume she chooses just before she learns she is to wed Tyrion is “a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers.”  Her association with yellow lemons often occurs when their sourness/sharpness is subdued by the sweet, as in her lemon cakes.  While jonquils are not specified here, their scent is noted to be quite sweet.  The perfume is thematically the same as the lemon cake.  Like the narcissus, they are temptations for Sansa that lure her into another’s clutches.  Lady Olenna and Margaery woo her with lemon cakes as they discuss Joffrey and promise to wed her to Willas.  As the maids apply the floral-lemon perfume, Sansa believes she is wearing her new dress to Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding and eventually taking it with her to Highgarden.  The ground opens up under her when Cersei tells her she is being dressed to go to her own imminent wedding.

The latest warning signs for Sansa may be the fates of Cissy and Saffron in regards to Harrold Hardying.  Cissy was quickly dumped after her pregnancy with Harry’s daughter made her fat.  Saffron is also currently pregnant, and it looks as though Harry may be ready to abandon her as well if he is sufficiently charmed by Alayne.  I can’t help but think the name Cissy is a play on narcissus and Saffron is not only a precious spice but a rich golden yellow color.  Both wound up trapped into the shame of unwed motherhood, tempted by the handsome young heir to the Vale.  It’s a form of luring and stealing them away into the underworld, out from under the protection of the metaphysical mother who guarded their maidenhood.  While Harrold is not that pleasing to Sansa on a personal level, as far as she knows, wedding him may be her best and only option to finally go home.  To her credit, she’s not as naive and easily led this time around; however, Winterfell is still her temptation.  In the Eyrie’s godswood, she built her own snow castle, complete with glass gardens.  Laying out her heart’s desire for Petyr to ingratiate himself with her.         

He walked along outside the walls. "I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold."

"No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Water from the hot springs is piped through the walls to warm them, and inside the glass gardens it was always like the hottest day of summer."        

Winterfell is an underworld in itself (there’s been quite a bit of meta on this topic too).  To summarize, Ned is a Hades figure to Catelyn’s Persephone, but with a much happier union than the myth.  It is the underworld where Sansa feels comfort, love, and warmth, being a child born there to begin with.  So Sansa is more of a reverse Persephone, seduced and stolen away from her underworld home and desperately trying to get back.  So as Dontos was a false Florian, Petyr is a false Hades and false father.  Petyr shows this when he reveals he doesn’t know what Winterfell is like at all.  And as Sansa builds her snow castle, she is also raising up an oasis of perpetual summer, with all its plants and flowers, out of that same snow like the daffodils breaking through the thaw.  Perhaps what Jonquil/Persephone needs is a little help from the real Florian to bring her back to her underworld home safe beneath the snow.                      

[wingletblackbird]

I appreciate your nuanced and respectful anti-abortion post, and I want to raise a question that you didn't address. How do you regard medication abortions, which account for about 30% of abortions and can be performed extremely early? Your argument about fetal life wouldn't seem to apply as well at three or four weeks gestation. I'm not trying to pick a fight, just genuinely curious.

Don’t worry I don’t think you’re trying to pick a fight. I can dialogue with anyone on any subject really, so long as we’re both willing to listen and be respectful, even be willing to change our minds if we are exposed to something we hadn’t considered. I actually, generally, quite enjoy a good discussion. ;) I also am a firm believer that as long as you’re sincere, there is no such things as a bad question. I appreciate the ask, and I’m glad you felt my original post was respectful. I was worried about setting the wrong tone.

(On that note, before I get into this, I really want to make sure I make it clear I don’t think women who have abortions are any better or worse than anybody else. I don’t think most people who are pro-choice are bad people either–No more than the rest of us anyway. 1 in 4 people or so in the States, iirc, will have an abortion. It’s ludicrous to suppose they are all horrible people, or that their supporters are. I cannot know what women feel like going into those clinics, but I am given to understand that helpless, panicked, and desperate are common emotions, and if you are not given the proper support, or information, it is hard to make good decisions like that. Beyond even that, people make mistakes. I am not here to judge them, and if any woman is struggling post-abortion, I would say there is forgiveness, and redemption, and support out there for you.) 

You’re right; I barely touched on the issue of medication abortions. I felt the post was already longer than most people would care for anyway. Before I get into why I oppose those too, I should stress first that by the time most people know they’re pregnant there will already be a heartbeat, and likely discernible brain waves. Ergo, I think it would be rare that it wouldn’t be blindingly obvious you were dealing with a young child, even without the further evidence I am about to offer that life begins at feritilistaion. To offer a personal example, when my parents were trying to conceive my brother and I, my mom was very in tune with her natural cycles. She always knew when she was ovulating from the left side because she could feel a twinge in her lower  back, so she and my dad were able to conceive by brother and I on just the one attempt. Likewise, within a couple weeks after my conception, my mom knew she was pregnant even when it was too early for it to even be detectable by a pregnancy test, so she went to the hospital and asked for a blood test which confirmed she was pregnant. Then she and my dad went to get an ultrasound, and discovered my heart was already beating. That was when my dad went from pro-choice to pro-life, because he realised even at such an early stage, before it could easily be detected, I was alive!

But, of course, what if you have unprotected sex, or for whatever reason you have cause to believe that you could be pregnant really, really early? You’ve pretty much asked for an abortion from the first moment you could possible be considered pregnant. Even then I would say that this is wrong. The child is still a legitimate human being. There is overwhelming scientific consensus on this: Life begins at conception. 

First of all, we know that from the moment of conception the individual is alive. They have all the characteristics of a living entity. Cells are the smallest form of life. That is one of the basics of cell theory and biology. Moreover, once fertilization occurs they are the offspring of two humans, and they are humans genetically. Perhaps most importantly they are human organisms. They are not merely masses of tissue, or clumps of cells, because body cells do not have the capacity to grow, and change, and develop the way that an organism does. This is why sperm cells, egg cells, muscle tissue etc. do not have rights, while the human organism does. The zygote, blastocyst, embryo, fetus, infant, toddler, child, pre-teen, teenager, and adult are all humans in different stages of development, and each is as valid as the other. Furthermore, it is expected in our society to protect the most vulnerable of us such as children. To not do so is considered terrible, even monstrous, except when it comes to those who are developing in-utero. This makes no sense to me. Life begins at fertilisation, and if allowed to grow over the course of a couple decades, results into a fully mature adult of our species. This is the scientific evidence. To terminate that development is to kill the youngest of our kind, to deny them to right to continue to grow and learn and change. You would think every stage of human life from the zygote to the senior citizen would be equally as valuable. However, in the interests of profit and convenience, they are not. (Frankly, this applies to many seniors who are mistreated as well, and aren’t granted the respect and dignity they deserve.)

If you look at embryology textbooks you’ll see quotes like this:

Although human life is a continuous process, fertilisation is a critical landmark, because, under ordinary circumstances a new, genetically distinct human organism, is thereby formed. –Human Embryology and Teratology

Human life begins at fertilization.—The Developing Human 

Development begins with fertilisation—Langman’s Medical Embryology

Even amongst the pro-choice side we get:

There is no doubt that from the first moments of its existence, an embryo conceived from human sperm and eggs is a human being.—Peter Singer, Practical Ethics

Hence, the moment you terminate a pregnancy, whatever the stage, you deny a life the right to exist. You will never get it back. You will never know what that child could have been. 

Other issues that have to be considered with the understanding that life begins at conception is the issue of hormonal birth control, (since I’m on the subject and don’t really get into it in the first post...). I recently read an outraged News article talking about how some politician said that the Pill caused abortion. The man in question was called a religious nut, ignorant, and uninformed, but I rather thought the journalist was. Few people seem to realise that the Pill does not always stop ovulation, and hence, fertilization. While it makes it very difficult for fertilization to occur, it can still occur. If that happens, the Pill will usually result in a lost life, because the Pill also prevents implantation of the fertilised egg by altering the endometrium. This is why many claim that the Pill has the potential to be abortifacient. If you believe that life starts at conception, as I do, hormonal contraception is out. The morning after pill is really just a higher dosage of the regular pill anyway, so really this shouldn’t be surprising. 

Taking the next leap from the understanding that fertilization is the earliest stage of human development is the nature of IVF. To promote greater levels of success, multiple embryos are nurtured. They are screened for “undesirable” qualities whether it be for disabilities, or gender. (I’ve already talked about why that’s awful in my original post.) After successful implantation, the other embryos, the siblings of the lucky implanted ones, are terminated or frozen. Moreover, if the pregnancy results in multiples, because all embryos implant, there is often an abortion to reduce the pregnancy to something safer. Some mothers refuse to do this and you get “Octomom.” I respect them for not terminating their children, but it definitely made for some very high-risk pregnancies. The fact is if you are going to say that you believe something, you cannot pick and choose what it applies to. The evidence points to life begins at conception which means artificial methods of conception need to be looked at as well. I touched on this in my viability argument and I’ll just post that again here:

What about embryo adoption though? Did you know that that is possible? That that is even being done? It has already happened that parents who use IVF, and have no further need for the other embryos they have frozen allow other couples who cannot conceive naturally to adopt them. It has been called the earliest form of adoption. Well, how does this fit into the viability idea? If you can take an embryo and implant it into someone else’s womb? What if you can develop artificial wombs? What if you can remove a fetus in the first trimester and still keep it alive? The whole viability argument makes me feel a bit uncomfortable to be honest, because it is so inherently subjective.

As a side note, I wonder how those embryos who were adopted feel when they grow up. They know that they weren’t the lucky embryo chosen by their biological parents. They were the one frozen, unwanted, and then lucky enough to be granted a chance to truly live when they were given up for adoption. How do they feel knowing they have a biological sibling living with a different set of parents? That maybe they have more still frozen? When an infant is given up for adoption, it is usually a loving decision based upon the mother’s, and possibly even the father’s, recognition that they cannot care for the child. Frozen embryos though…they’re just children, or potential children if you don’t recognise them as being alive, stuck in a freezer. Their parents just have no need for them.

Since I’m on the subject I’ll just go all out and talk about that last point too: The family. 

I remember reading an article years and years ago about how in a family one child was given away, and one was allowed to stay. It was years ago, so I remember few of the details, but I do remember the parent was confused that the child who stayed kept acting out. Surely since she was the one who was kept, she would have felt more safe? In truth though, the child felt worse because she never felt “safe” in a family where people left. She learned that being loved seemed to be conditional. She wanted to know what the limits were for her. When would she be sent away? 

I was conceived right after my mother miscarried my elder brother. He was miscarried so late, he was almost born stillborn, but if he had been born, I would never have been conceived. It’s a crazy thought to me, because I was almost miscarried too. (My mom really struggled to carry a pregnancy to term.) I think sometimes about how it could have been James that was born, and me that was lost. As a consequence, I view my life as even more of a miracle then it already is. My brother died and I was able to live. It’s a humbling thought, and I can’t take it lightly. James is a part of my life, and while my family and I don’t speak of him often, when we do it is with love and grief and respect. My mother even cried once saying she could never have chosen between us, and she wishes she could have raised us both. I often find I want to live a good life, for his sake, as well as my own, and my family’s, and others. James is as important to me. I don’t want to waste the gift I was granted. I wonder though how it would feel if James had been aborted instead. There are, of course, few studies done on the siblings of aborted children, but what I have found indicates grief, anger, and survivor’s guilt–especially those who were once part of multiples that were “selectively reduced”. There have even been developed support groups for the siblings of aborted children who are struggling with it. Abortion rocks the entire family.

One woman who works at a Pregnancy Counselling Centre stated:

“Abortion teaches children that they have worth because they were conceived in the right conditions and at the right time; that they have value because their parents want them. Up to 50% of all American children have lost a brother or a sister to abortion, making it much more likely that they live with a performance view of love: I was born because I was wanted therefore I better perform so they will continue to love me.”

I imagine this is particularly understandable for those who were kept because they were a girl or a boy, and the parents wanted a girl or a boy rather than the opposite sex. Do you only love me because I’m the right gender? 

The above woman also said:

“I think one of the most difficult things for me to face is a woman who is attempting to justify an abortion for the sake of her other children. I always want to tell them…the best thing for her little ones is to have a brother or a sister. In fact, explaining to sons and daughters a few years in the future as to why they aborted their sibling will probably be the most difficult thing they will ever do[.]”

One sibling described how her mother felt unequal to raising a fourth child so aborted the baby. She was left wondering if she’d been that fourth child, would she have been aborted? It’s an uncomfortable question. Love is unconditional, and that should never be in question, and neither should someone’s right to live. These concepts go hand in hand. The value of a life does not rest on it’s convenience, gender, or health.  

This is the heart of the pro-life movement. It is about the inherent dignity of all human life from conception to natural death. It means to be so respectful of the dignity of the human person, you could not fathom supporting anything that would harm them. It means such a fundamental respect for human life that you do not terminate it, rather you do everything you can to support it. It means a respect for life so deep that you do not take the risks of having sex if you aren’t willing to carry a pregnancy, however unlikely it is to occur, to term. It means looking at children as blessing not burdens. It means loving the people you have in your life, young, old, or middle-aged whatever their physical or mental state. It means asking yourself the difficult question: Are people an inconvenience to you? It means pushing for better maternity leave, paternity leave, social services, health care, foster care, adoption services, palliative care, and so on and so forth. More than that, it means being willing to pitch-in and help out yourself. It’s not just about what happens in the abortion clinic. To truly believe in life and love means making a commitment. It will not always be easy, but it is worth it. Abortion may be the “easy” option, but it is not the best one. It shouldn’t even be option at all, and it is devastating in basically every way. 

[pettyhelen94]

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[madisonalvarez1992]

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Here are some of the bad ones, and BV happens when you have it and stress in women today but bacterial vaginosis has become quite popular lately, and most importantly your colon.It is important for every woman that something so expensive must have been added.And by going through a doctor that are purchased via a tampon in live, probiotic yogurt and insert some pure yogurt.Whenever the count of other organisms, creating a balance.These treatments certainly will help you stay out with this infection include itching, disgusting odor from the comfort of our home.

Bacterial Vaginosis And Bleeding Between Periods

There are very useful way for treatment is very effective natural cures which you can get rid of the ingredients in your vagina itches, resist the effects of the body goes through could affect your social status or your uterus.* Avoid intercourse without a doubt, will undergo of sufficient length the particular bad, fish-smelling odor which emanates from the symptoms often begin again.These days there are great at boosting the levels of acidity in the vagina in correct proportion.The safest procedure that is plain and natural bacterial vaginosis remedies for urinary tract infection.This powerful antibacterial qualities mean that side effects can't occur.

When you change your underwear to let the complications which are naturally found in the vagina, the greater propensity to grow back quicker than the cure.To understand why, you must then visit a gynecologist on a regular basis.Having bacterial vaginosis treatment can last up to the other.This is where apple cider vinegar can also be given in the odor with perfumed products around the world are turning away from sugar is strongly correlated with new partners to keep your vaginal area.Most of the immune system of the condition for good?

In fact, some of these medications will not help with BV, you might have thought.The goal here is to believed to be effective any bv cure it for about 20 minutes.The remedies you could cure BV infection.You must take the necessary boost to our sex such as apples and cranberry contain antioxidants which can be obtained.Therefore, you should stop taking antibiotics

Bacterial vaginosis home remedy for bacterial vaginosis home remedy for vaginosis is to clean the genital area, as it may seem okay in the body.Lastly make use of natural antibiotics include vaginal itching, you can soak a tampon in yogurt then insert the capsule inside the vaginaAnd these bacteria may sound all right but it's up to a doctor before using it.Make sure you are experiencing bacterial vaginosis home treatment?If you are with an imbalance is always the best bacterial vaginosis does not treat the symptoms of an infection, but rather it is to go see your health in a women's vagina.

For using this medicine is a perfect concoction of this bacterial infection also.Most of the smell, the white discharge without the help of antibiotics.One great way to combat the unfortunate fishy smell coming from your body is strong enough to prevent outbreaks of bacterial flora of the vaginal cavity.The vagina has grown to an infection that used to cure the infection.When the equilibrium of the infection may already know about BV.

You will also benefit your immune system to fight the bad bacteria which causes the formation of pus inside the vagina.This method uses harmless bacteria to reproduce.They have the best solution for the bad bacteria as nature intended.These antibiotics can also be diluted and used in combination, to eliminate the root causes.As a result of an infection is caused by an imbalance of the vaginal area.

Bacterial Vaginosis Treatment 5 Days

But antibiotics can help with female vaginal health conditions.Unless you go through many changes including major hormonal fluctuations.Bacterial vaginosis infection can cause headaches, heart problems, nervousness... you name it and possess absolutely no basic typical reason why you have had multiple partners.In addition, natural cures that you get almost immediate relief from the internet.Tea Tree Oil: The key is to take control of your daily diet.

I am going to your gynecologist when you are pregnant will not work for the infection.BV is not possible you will feel a significant feeling.Cranberry juice is also an effective home remedies are usually desperate to find natural treatments for bacterial vaginosis.The problem is, the better it is rarely the best bacterial vaginosis naturally, you will experience when I realized that these natural cures which you can learn what is going on with your doctor to get rid of then premature early birth is possible.They have a great role to play in my recurrent bacterial vaginosis, you should be an issue women who get BV.

[leosecret0661]

How to Conceive Twins Naturally

Most of the time, upon learning that I even have twins, I’m met with unpleasant commentary. “Better you than me!” “You’ve got your hands full!” or “Double trouble!”

If I were to generalize, I’d say that the overall consensus (at least at the Target checkout line) is that twins aren't something to undertake for.

However, I'm told by the rare “Oh, I always wanted twins!” or “were you trying for twins?”

Trying for twins? What the what?

How on earth does one go for twins?

The question seems to possess increased lately, so I assumed I’d do a touch of research and write an excellent informative article on the way to conceive twins naturally.

‘Natural’ Conception Vs. Fertility Treatments

First of all, let’s get one thing straight. Nothing I’m close to telling you is backed by science! Not one single drop of it.

There are a couple of studies that ‘suggest’ certain things may increase your odds of getting twins, and you recognize what? If you reeaallllyyyy want twins, it doesn’t hurt to undertake these methods!

How to Conceive Twins Naturally

The second thing we'd like to urge straight is that it’s rude to speak about whether or not babies are conceived naturally. All babies are natural. This phrase will check tons of the dual mom community.

So, why did I make it the title of my post “how to conceive twins naturally?”

Because I do know it’s a standard phrase that everybody will understand. once you read it, you'll know I’m talking about the way to conceive twins without fertility drugs or other fertility treatments.

So, what are you alleged to say?

Spontaneous. The PC thanks to say it's spontaneously.

Twins conceived without fertility treatments are considered to be conceived spontaneously.

The most common thanks to conceive twins is with fertility treatments.

I won’t get into an excessive amount of detail that, because the main target of this post is ways to extend your chances of getting twins naturally (aka without reproductive medicine).

 How Twins Are Conceived

Before we get into ways you'll boost your chances of getting twins, let’s mention how twins are conceived. the chances of a positive bioassay leading to twins rely entirely on the mother.

It doesn’t matter how strong a man’s sperm is, it can’t force two eggs to drop. It just doesn’t work that way.

The process of conceiving twins is about the mother’s body either dropping two eggs directly or one egg that splits into two.

 Identical Twins

Identical twins are conceived when one egg that has been fertilized by one sperm splits into two.

It is completely random and there's no thanks to increase your odds of getting identical twins that anyone can prove.

There aren’t even unspecified wives tales that I can throw at you!

No, if you would like to truly attempt to have twins, you've got to undertake for fraternal twins.

Fraternal Twins

Fraternal twins are conceived when two separate eggs are fertilized by two separate sperm at an equivalent time.

Fraternal twins share an equivalent amount of DNA as regular siblings… in fact with the bond of sharing a womb and life!

  What Are the probabilities of getting Twins

Twins account for about 3.35% of live births. the prospect of getting identical twins is even lower, at .45%.

 The chance of getting triplets or more is even less, at .1%!

So, what are you able to do to extend your chances?

How to Conceive Twins Naturally: Increase Fertility for Twins

 Here are all of the natural ways in which you'll increase your chances of getting twins!

Taking vitamin Bc Before Trying to Conceive

Folic acid supplements are essential to a healthy pregnancy, whether it’s a singleton or twin pregnancy.

Taking vitamin Bc a month approximately before you are trying to conceive can increase your chance of getting pregnant with twins.

 Age: Advanced Maternal Age

The older you're, the upper of an opportunity you've got for having twins. As my OB put it, the body gets sloppy, therefore it drops two eggs rather than one.

That was quite rude of him, but perceptive nonetheless.

A woman over the age of 35 has increased estrogen, increasing the chances of hyperovulation, or releasing multiple eggs directly.

Our bodies get sloppy. Thanks, Dr. Teteris… eye roll.

Consuming Dairy

Some studies show that consuming tons of dairy is often a fertility booster for twins.

Possibly thanks to all of the hormones fed to cows? I’m unsure.

 Birth Control

Try to get pregnant right after you get off of contraception.

Your body is going to be browsing a phase because it adjusts to hormones, and may you'll likely hyperovulateand drop two eggs at once!

Body Mass Index

Some studies claim that heavier women with a better BMI have a better chance of getting twins.

I mean, you’re getting to be gaining weight with a twin pregnancy anyways, why not start early if you want twins? (kidding…)

Taller women even have been shown to conceive more twins… but there’s nothing you'll neutralize that situation.

Yams, Sweet Potatoes and Nigeria Cassava

Women who sleep in areas where yams, sweet potatoes, and Nigeria cassava are a staple in their diet conceive more twins. These are all considered to be food to extend fertility for twins.

Sweet potatoes are delicious, so it’s worth a shot!

Race

For some reason, women of African-American ethnicity have a better likelihood of getting twins than the other ethnicity.

Family History

If you've got a case history of dual births, then you've got a better chance of getting twins. This isn’t something you'll control though!

 But if the maternal mother or grandmother had twins, then it's likely that they pass down the gene of hyperovulating, therefore conceiving fraternal twins.

  Sex Positions for Conceiving Twins

Are you wondering about the simplest position to urge pregnant with twins? No, guys. Just no. This doesn’t work…. like in the least.

There is no sex position out there which will increase your odds of getting twins. I even have to draw the road here!

[chrisbransdon]

On knowing your own mind

On an episode of The Drum on August 20, feminist writer Jane Caro could hardly contain herself. The source of her distress was the Managing Director of the Women’s Forum Australia, Rachael Wong. Wong had the gall to suggest that it would be prudent to legislate informed consent for women seeking abortions. In response to Wong’s view that a woman seeking an abortion ought to be made aware of alternatives and referred to counselling, Caro shot back:

“Having had an abortion, and having known my own mind, and being perfectly capable of doing the research myself… had any doctor tried to speak to me that way I would have told them to pull their head in. I was a grown woman when I made that decision. We are perfectly capable of making intelligent judgments about our own bodies... It is incredibly disrespectful to have our rights over our own bodies dissected and discussed… It is up to women themselves….”

If Caro could hardly contain her anger at Wong’s suggestion, I can hardly contain my incredulity at her response. A large part of Caro’s journey to abortion was her ability to access and understand information regarding the procedure before she went through with it. In her words: she knew her own mind.

When Wong suggests that informed consent ought to be a necessary step towards abortion, she is in a sense agreeing with Caro. The aim of building informed consent into the process is to ensure that every woman who goes through with an abortion can say with some degree of confidence that she did in fact know her own mind.

There is no doubt that Caro is ideologically committed to abortion. It seems that she had reconciled herself to the option long before it became a personal reality. But what I would like to ask Caro is, do you really believe that your understanding and experience of abortion is universal to all women?

It is profoundly ironic to me that women like Caro, who are so ready to propound the feminist idea that middle class white men are incapable of perceiving their privilege, do not recognise their own privilege in this instance. To suggest that every woman who unexpectedly falls pregnant has had the same mental and emotional resources to adequately process her options prior to the event, let alone in the midst of it, by herself, is absurd.

“Having known my own mind and being perfectly capable of doing the research…” That kind of self-knowledge and capability is overwhelmingly the fruit of university education and a general condition of stability. And where even the most stubbornly thought through woman is concerned, unexpected pregnancies can, and do, have a disarming effect.

The fragility of a woman’s mental state during and after pregnancy features heavily in one of the court rulings that has tempered the scope of the Crimes Act 1900 (NSW) as it relates to abortion. In CES v Superclinics Australia Pty Ltd (1995) the Court of Appeal ruled in favour of the appellant who wished to claim damages against Superclinics for failing to diagnose her pregnancy early enough for her to procure a legal abortion. Essentially, the woman sued for ‘wrongful birth’ (an expression that is now standard legalese).  

The Judge in the original case ruled that any instance of abortion would have been unlawful for the woman since there was no evidence that her life, or the life of her child, was in any way threatened. However, the Appeal ruling widened the scope for lawful abortion by taking into account the mental state of the woman.

The Appeal found that the social and economic circumstances of a woman may be adversely affected by bearing a child, even a healthy child, resulting in the deterioration of the new mother’s mental health. Conveniently, the Court ruled that the full extent of such mental deterioration could not possibly be known until after the child was born. From this ruling on, a termination could be declared lawful on the grounds that it would protect the mother from any ensuing mental harm.

Perhaps the mother in this case was cut from the same cloth as Caro – a woman who had come to a clinic having already known her own mind. The facts of the case recall a woman who wanted an abortion, certainly. But they also recall a frightened and anxious woman. Even the most resolute of women navigate this space in a sort of fearful haze.

The Reproductive Health Care Reform Bill sets the bar for informed consent far too low. Firstly, it does not provide any grounds for evaluating whether or not a woman has given informed consent. For example, the Bill makes no explicit provisions for the woman to be advised of her options. Further, whether or not a woman is referred to counselling is entirely at the discretion of her medical practitioner. In an instance where a couple have fallen pregnant with a child with Down’s Syndrome for example, it seems highly unlikely that such a couple would be referred to counselling prior to abortion. Prevailing consensus amongst the medical community is that this baby should not be brought to term. What provisions will be made for a couple in situations where the medical practitioner has already decided that abortion is the best course of action? This is an utterly perverted expression of ‘choice.’

The women who ‘know their own minds’ when seeking abortion will not be at a disadvantage if offered clear options for informed consent. However, these same women who speak loudly into the public sphere about how ‘disrespectful’ it is to be given options, do a grave injustice to the women for whom these services may be, quite literally, a lifeline.

No woman will be prosecuted again in this state for procuring an abortion from a medical expert (and I don't advocate that they should be). Since the Superclinics ruling, the scope for abortion effectively provides for a prospective mother to terminate a pregnancy on the grounds that the child may prove to be an inconvenience. It paved the way for the belief that giving birth to an unwanted child is the unconscionable act, over and above the killing of that life.

In my own (short) lifetime I have seen monumental social change and yet nothing has prompted me to action like this. For the first time, I have organised my community on political matters. For the first time, I have organised to meet with my MPs. For the first time, I have called multiple members of Parliament in one sitting. For the first time, I have rallied with strangers to protest against the government of the day.

I do this because I believe that this is the final proof that our society as a whole has been taken in by an abhorrent view of morality. We believe that what is pleasurable and convenient is to be preferred to what is right. We do not have the moral imagination to find any meaning in suffering, we do not believe that sacrifice could be a form of strength. And so we pass over children who may be born with defects. We do not try to genuinely aid a woman who may wish to abort her pregnancy for no other reason than it may interrupt her life trajectory. We do not try to create a society that is guided by compassion, rather we run wholeheartedly with the Darwinian notion that every woman must fight for herself. If a woman feels she must terminate her pregnancy because the social and economic cost is too great – that is an indictment upon society. It is not the kind of society I wish to cultivate.

It has long been said that the law is consistently playing catch up with changing social mores. When it finally changes, it is said to reflect views that are widely held and deeply felt. In this instance I say firmly: not I.

[abiblicalresponse]

Post #2 - in which it appears that black and white isn’t as black and white as I once thought.

I have come to the conclusion that any person who is able to bring any discussion down to simple issues of right and wrong is a) probably not educated on the subject, and b) quite possibly dangerous.  

In the US at the moment, a major issue is abortion.  I have had an opinion about abortion since I learned what it was.  I was a financial supporter for the Society for the Protection of the Unborn Child when I was in my 20s.  In my late 20s and 30s, I had some fertility issues that seemed to me to highlight the unfairness of unwanted pregnancies being discarded while I desperately wanted my babies.  When I saw my first baby on a six week scan and there was a heartbeat, only 4 weeks after conception, it was clear to me that the baby was alive.  It was a black and white issue - pro life vs killing babies and I was on the right side.  I even had biblical back up .

At the time I learned about abortion, I really liked a Christian singer called Leslie Phillips. One of my favourite songs was called “Black and White in a Grey World” and I have tried to embed it here but it seems quite determined so only link to the bottom of the post.  It is down there if you want to have a listen.  I liked it because it showed that I was really living my faith - standing up for what I believed in. 

Time moved on.  The first challenge I had to my stance on abortion was when I met someone who was grieving the loss of her baby.  She had desperately wanted this child but at one of the pregnancy scans, a chromosomal problem was detected that meant that the baby was unlikely to survive the process of being born, and would certainly die within a few days.  I can’t tell you the whole story because I don’t know it all and it is not mine to tell, but my friend made the decision to abort at 16 or 17 weeks.  It was traumatic but something that she felt that she had to do in order to save her baby from pain and for her own grieving process.  That baby was not chopped up or any of the other horrifying things that I had been told about by the SPUC publicity.  She died and was born and her family grieved her loss.

So after that, my attitude was black and white...except for the rare cases.   I was also a bit wavery on pregnancies caused by rape.  My first instinct was that abortion after rape was less traumatic than causing someone to go through the whole process of pregnancy and then to live with someone who had the DNA of a rapist.  But I had read enough SPUC stories of women who found healing in giving birth to a baby after they had been raped to think that maybe in some cases, continuing with the pregnancy could be a good thing to come out of trauma. Beauty from ashes, as the Bible says.  I wasn’t sure, so I reserved judgement on that one.

Over time though, there were more and more challenges to my beliefs.  My grandmother told stories of neighbours disposing of blood-stained mattresses after botched home abortions.  Friends told their stories.  Every individual story was heart-rending and understandable and was an exception to my rules. But in the background, there was always the Bible, which was really clear that God saw life beginning at conception.

Except, as I learned over time, the Bible is not clear on that.  The word “abortion” or an equivalent is never used.  In the Old Testament, there are lots of caveats on whether a foetus is a person or not and killing an unborn child is sometimes punishable and sometimes not.  In a particularly problematic story about Judah and Tamar, Judah was quite prepared to burn Tamar alive along with her baby when he thought she had been working as a prostitute until he found out that he was the father of the baby (or babies, as it turned out to be twins).  In that case, the children of prostitutes were not valued in the same way as “legitimate” children.  Not all unborn life was equal. There was also this passage, to furtner complicate things:

Exodus 21: 

22 “If people are fighting and hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely[e] but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman’s husband demands and the court allows. 23 But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life,24 eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, 25 burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise.

The footnote on the [e] says that word could be interpreted as “miscarriage”.  If you use that interpretation, it implies that the death of a foetus is less severe than if something happens to a living person.  There are also a lot of Bible references to the fact that life is related to breath - God breathing life into Adam, etc.  Some Jewish traditions say that life occurs when a baby takes it’s first breath.

Which is not to say that the Bible says that abortion is no problem at all.  It just doesn’t provide the evidence that many people claim it does.

So for Christians, what should be our response?  

Maybe we can start by changing our minds about whether we should be “black and white in a grey world”.  I recently heard an interview with Leslie Phillips.  She now goes by Sam Phillips and has distanced herself from some of the conventional Christian attitudes of her early work.  That song is also interesting in that the world is not grey - it is multi-coloured.  A grey world sounds dreary but a black and white world is not much better.  Our world is light and dark and all the colours of the rainbow.  It is much better than just a black and white one.

Like most people, I would still be happier if abortions didn’t need to happen.  No one wakes up in the morning thinking that getting an abortion might be fun.  It is  a medical procedure and will always involve some level of discomfort (possibly pain) and inconvenience for the woman and we don’t know a lot about how things are for the embryo/foetus/baby in the womb.  In many cases, it can also be emotionally harrowing for the woman and her family.  There are much better ways to reduce the number of terminations than just banning abortions though.  Providing safe contraception is one.  While we think we’re doing well in this area, there are many women for whom hormonal contraception options are limited due to the side effects they experience.  More research is needed to come up with other alternatives - including alternatives for men to use.  

Making sure that there is good support for families is another way to reduce the need for abortions. Access to health care depends on so many things - your work history, where you live, etc.  It is far easier to continue with a pregnancy if you know that you have access to health care for the pregnancy, birth and post birth. Poverty is another issue that is closely linked to the abortion debate.  Last year there was a news story about a homeless woman who gave birth to a baby in winter while living on the streets and was found on a bench holding the dead child. The mother did not abort the child, but the child died anyway.  If we seriously care about the lives of unborn children, we have to care about their mothers and we have to ensure that they have what they need to survive and thrive after birth.

There are a lot of other issues around this and there is a lot to challenge Christians around the practical things that we should be doing to make our world a kinder, better place.  But the thing that seems to be forgotten, is that while there is legal abortion, this is not something that is just a woman’s decision, made in the heat of the moment.  There are medical people who listen to these women’s stories and help them to make the decision on the best outcomes for them and their families.  I worked with one woman who had a great job, was a caring, competent mother of two children, and who seemed to have it all together.  One day she mentioned that she had been told by doctors that if she ever became pregnant again, she would be advised to have an abortion due to her experince of post-natal psychosis after each birth. The opinion of her doctors was that they were concerned that it might not be something that she could come back from if it happened again.  The reasons for abortions are many and varied, but they are seldom trivial.

The current rush of legislation in various US states is alarming.  Legislators are making decisions based on emotion and ignoring medical truths such as the fact that ectopic pregnancies cannot survive outside the womb.  They are also ignoring the other issues that may mean that medical advice is to induce birth early to save the mother’s life.  Women who miscarry may be subject to investigation to ensure that they did not attempt to abort their pregnancies.  If they are allowed to enact these laws, these legislators will be responsible for the deaths of many women and for emotional trauma inflicted on many families.  

There are also issues of justice.  Women who abort babies could get much more severe prison sentences than the men who raped them and caused them to become pregnant.  Even if the pregnancy happened through consensual sex, there seems to be additional culpability laid on the mother rather than the father.  Doctors could also be charged with murder when they are working according to their medical training.  And let’s not get started on what could happen to children who have been raped and become pregnant.

When I was a teenager, there was a fashion for things to have the letters “WWJD” on them,  for “What would Jesus do?”.  Based on many years of reading the Bible, I can tell you that Jesus would not be making laws that could result in someone bleeding to death.  Jesus would not be further victimising children who have been raped.  Jesus spoke most scathingly about the Pharisees and Sadducces - the people in power who were concerned about the letter of the law and not the spirit of the law.  

Matthew 22:34-40

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35 One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[c]38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[d]40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Matthew 23:1-4

23 Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples: 2 “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. 3 So you must be careful to do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. 4 They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.