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sasukimimochi · 1 year

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Chapter 1, Promise

Part 1 (You are here). Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Chapter 2, You Are My Home (Coming soon...)

Rating (Overall) Explicit - (explicit sections will not be on Tumblr, but on ao3 upon completion). -Hurt/Comfort (good ending!) but the first chapter has a LOT of angst! -Focus is Wangxian, no side ships (though this may not apply to extra chapters) -Set in an original universe i made. not typical heaven/hell dynamics. (aka pls dont copy anything from the universe!)-characters may have slightly differing personalities, depending on their role in this. (don't judge characters before you know em!) -if you love MXY, this story might upset you. warning in hindsight. i like mxy but his role in this story is a tragic one. i'll update this if i can think about more tags... of course it'll be fully tagged when on ao3 tho.

Warnings: Angst (for part 1), Temporary Character Death, Blood (future warnings to be added for anything beyond this part).

Characters (for entire fic): Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Wen Ning, Wen Qing, Mo Xuanyu, Wen Yuan (might not be until extra chapters) Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, Baoshan Sanren (other characters may show up, i will update if that happens.) ...

Mood song for Part 1

Ch 1, Part 1: · ✦ Before the Fall ✦ ·

“Wei…Ying…are you alright?” The blood soaked fingers the smaller male held shook, betraying how weak his line to life had become. Not that the other needed the confirmation- Lan Wangji had lost so much blood now and he had no spiritual energy to spare.

“I’m f…fine.” Wei Wuxian’s voice broke, swallowing down a breath of air with difficulty. “Hold on for me…okay? Please hold on.”

“Wei Ying…” The man’s voice grew quieter, but he still managed a small squeeze on the other’s hand. “Meet me again in the next life…promise?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth turned to cotton while it opened and closed, and he did try to speak, he did, but all that came out was a strangled sob and a fresh wave of tears.

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji weakly called, bringing the other’s eyes back to his blood spattered face once more. “Please…”

Wei Wuxian brought in a strangled breath and brought the other’s hand to his mouth to kiss the back of their palm. “I could never miss it. I…want to be your husband in every lifetime. L…Lan Zhan…” He sobbed, his other hand still pressed tightly to the gaping wound on his husband’s neck. “I-I just…I wanted to have you in this lifetime. A little longer…”

Lan Wangji’s lips turned up slightly. “Closer.”

Wei Wuxian leaned down obediently, already knowing what his husband wanted. Their lips met so softly, the unspoken love between them as strong as it had ever been since their first kiss. Salty, wet, and metallic as it was, it didn’t matter. When Wei Wuxian pulled his head away, it was only to press their foreheads together, the cloth of the other’s ribbon sliding softly against his skin until he was once again still. “Lan Zhan…please…”

Soft pitters of rain were the only sound he received in return. “A little longer…” He sucked in a breath, his chest aching painfully. “Please…”

He shuddered, the distant sound of shouting not enough to pull him away. His body shook, feeling no comfort in the hands that came to rest on his back.

See other COI/MDZS content here on my masterpost. ❤ Art for the banner is here.

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zop-story-archive · 4 months

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Smoke, dust, death, and bleach permeated the stagnant air of the grimey bathroom. The blood staining the mold-ridden, carpeted floor was a result of its secondary use. Alongside being a space for hygienic needs, it also functioned as a kind of butchery. Many sorts of corpses and roadkill were harvested here for all their worth, with worth having different meanings to each of the two monsterous tenants.

Sylvain sat alone in the bath, a cigarette perched between his blood covered lips as he stared off into nothing. The washed out pink tub was stained dark green inside and out by his roommate's yearly 'egg scraping'. He always found himself so perturbed by the mess left behind, he never asked the lizard what exactly said process entailed. On the floor laid the vampire's latest meal, a five-foot ginger jigalow that wore no shirt and parachute pants. It was facedown on the questionably sanitary floor with a massive, open gash in its neck. The skin had become nearly as white as cotton due to the massive amount of blood drained from the body. Sylvain had no qualms leaving the corpse there, he knew Aldin would find a colorful use for it later.

At some point, the killer plucked the coffin nail from his mouth and expelled the smoke from his lungs. He found respite in the taste of tobacco coupled with the faint buzzing of the room's singular, exposed lightbulb. More than likely, this would be the most relaxed part of his day. A part of him wanted to light up another nail before hosing himself down, although Sylvain quickly disposed of this idea. It would only delay facing the gory entropy slowly swallowing the city up.

The ashes of his cigarette fell to the bottom of the tub before the vampire flicked the stub onto the floor. He picked himself up and turned the shower on, upon which a stream of opaque, emerald water sprayed down his bloodied body. A faint smell of sulfur came from the liquid, causing his nose to twinge slightly. The vampire's pale face further cringed and grimaced when a loud, persistent knocking on the door clamored throughout the small room.

"Hey! Hey Sylvain, ya in there!?" Aldin, his roommate, yelled loudly enough for half of the city to hear.

Sylvain hissed to himself as he turned the nozzle to the right. "Not now, numbnuts, you can take a piss outside," he replied harshly as the water slowed to a periodic drip.

"Nah nah, it ain't that. I got something to show ya, get your ass outta there!" the lizard urged in his coarse voice.

"Fine. I need ten minutes, you better not bother me again," the pale thing warned forebodingly.

"Okie doke, take yer time!" Aldin chirped, as if oblivious to the threat made, before walking away from the wooden door. Sylvain rubbed his face with a groan as he restarted the shower. The killer was still for a moment as the lukewarm water flowed down the length of his body. He could already tell today was going to be greatly annoying.

#zop #zombies of pythonel #horror story #orginal story #tw blood #tw smoking #tw murder mention #tw death #sylvain #my art #chapter 1 part 1

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more-than-tender-curiosity · 2 years

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Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby Characters: Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby, Jay Gatsby's Butler Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon, Jay Gatsby Lives, Nick Carraway Loves Jay Gatsby, Gay Nick Carraway Series: Part 1 of More Than Tender Curiosity Summary:

He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him.

...or, in this case, beside him. Always.

#the great gatsby #natsby #nick carraway #jay gatsby #tgg #chapter 1 part 1 #grounding in the great unknown

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nobodysbusinesscomic · 2 months

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Chapter 1 - part 1

Index || Next>>

#chapters #comics #comics on tumblr #nobody's business #manga #full chapter #chapter 1 #chapter 1 part 1 #long post

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meadow-brook · 11 months

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FinClan Tales - Chapter 1 Moon 0 - Part 1/2

With the wind threatening to rip her fur off and the sun slowly starting to set, Olive scrambled for cover. The last thing she wanted was to get her book wet and be under threat of all its history running off the pages. Along the shore where she had been searching for the original territory, the large mass of an abandoned twoleg ship surfaced up ahead. It looked old, nothing like the small, shiny boats Olive would see in the lake outside her library, but wooden, and bigger than any twoleg nest she’d ever seen. A smaller boat was leaned against it, the bottom hollowed out and creating the entryway to a small den against the large ship, and another one upturned not far off, both wooden. Before she had much time to contemplate if this was good shelter, or if she should check it for danger, the crack of thunder sent her running for the ash-colored boat with the bottom hollowed out.

Inside, Olive quivered, letting her eyes adjust to the space as she crouched in the entrance. It was a reasonably sized space, and aside from a spider or two in the corner making their home, she was completely alone. As the harsh rain started to pour around her, she silently thanked whoever had guided her here, as she stayed completely dry. Slowly untangling herself from the twine that held her book to her like a satchel, she set it down to create a shallow dip in the sand. Once she was satisfied, she settled down for a rest with her chin on the book of, who she hoped, were her ancestors.

Olive opened her eyes to find herself in the vast depths of the universe. The ground below her was soft and smooth like sand, but had none of the same coarseness, and behind her, waves crashed on this strange shore, but instead of the expected colliding water, it was stars. As she tried to look farther out into this strange ocean, or farther up the shore, she felt her head swim as the territory spun around her. It was neither here nor there, up nor down, but existent all the same, and it made her head hurt trying to make sense of it.

“Best not to look too hard,” came a smooth voice beside her. “This place isn’t meant for the eyes of non-StarClan cats.”

Olive nearly jumped out of her fur, taking a few steps to her right as she gazed at the newcomer. He had shimmering dark ginger fur, and his heather blue eyes seemed to bore into her with a knowledge and sorrow she could not yet comprehend.

“Where am I?” Olive asked, fighting to keep the trembling from her voice. “Who are you?”

The tom tilted his head in amusement. “I thought you had read about StarClan, have you not? Were you not prepared to put a face to your ancestors?”

StarClan . . . Olive forced herself to think back to what she was doing in the waking world in the first place. “You-you’re a StarClan cat! You know about the Clans that used to live here! What happened to them? Why aren’t they here anymore? Could I truly come from them? Am I on the right path?” She couldn’t help the words tumbling out of her mouth, each question finding purchase in her throat as she practically shouted at the starry tom.

The tom’s expression went from mildly amused to unreadable, and he dipped his head. “There is only so much I can tell you, but if reviving the Clans is truly what you seek, you are on the right path. Our history is closer than you think . . .”

Olive’s vision spun again as the tom began to fade.

“Wait! I don’t even know your name! Why can’t you tell me more?”

Olive woke with a jolt, shaking her head to try to clear the roaring in her ears before realizing it was the ocean a couple foxlengths away from her makeshift den. She forced herself up with her paws and slid into an easy stretch, though her mind was set on the night before. Had she really been in StarClan’s hunting grounds?

She sat with her tail wrapped over her paws, dragging the book in front of her. She studied its soft rabbit-hide cover before leafing through its pages to find anything she could on StarClan. Olive hissed under her breath. Whoever the author was, they did a good job at overexplaining some things, and assuming the reader knew what they were talking about with others. StarClan was one of the assumed, and Olive had spent days in the library attic piecing together what bits of information she had about them: they were warrior ancestors sent to guide Clan cats, and as it seemed specifically the medicine cat, but nothing else more was said. Other than the Starstone, of course, which only had a rough image sketched in ink, and Olive only assumed it had to do with StarClan by name association. Maybe this cat was old and rambling, as Dewey said.

Olive’s stomach distracted her from any further thoughts. She sighed. Her hunt for knowledge would have to wait, as it wouldn’t fill her belly as much as a mouse, or perhaps a fish. She hesitated for a moment longer. She didn’t want to leave the book here, but she also knew she would be a lousy hunter with all that weight on her one side if she refastened it to herself. Quickly, she covered it with some sand, only to dig it out again, worrying that it would somehow damage the pages. Growing frustrated, she jammed it into the corner of the den and hoped no other cat would come by and steal it. What would a stray cat want with a book anyways?

Olive had little experience hunting for herself, but reasoned it wouldn’t be too hard. She thought she could check the large ship next to her den, likely teaming with mice and giving her a chance to explore if she had to stay here another night. Creeping out of her den, she couldn’t scent much outside of salt and fresh rainfall. Looking over at the twoleg ship, there were two possible entrances: a hole in the front of the ship, framed by large boulders, and a large plank that looked sturdy enough to carry her weight to the top of the ship, in which another large boulder was sticking out of the middle. Olive didn’t know what had caused this ship to be here, but it looked as if a giant cat threw it aside like a piece of crowfood on top of the boulders, instead of coming from the sea. She decided she’d try the lower entrance first: no reason to risk potential danger if there wasn’t any need.

Keeping her jaws parted for any scent of prey, Olive crept into the opening. It looked like a whole other den, bordered by stone if not by the wood of the destroyed ship. Straightening as she gazed around, she was amazed at how sturdy and dry the space was, with plenty of room for a couple cats, and so near the den she had slept in previously.

“There has to be a reason no one else has taken shelter here. This is too perfect!”

Just then, she heard the squeak of a mouse as it tried to run past her, startled by her mrow. With a hiss of frustration, she lept towards the little creature. It ran straight for the boulder to her right, and when she thought she had it cornered, it swerved out of the way, letting Olive crash head first into the large stone.

“Fox-dung!” she spat, rubbing her head with her paw. “Who thought this would be a good place for a giant, good-for-nothing rock . . .”

Olive’s voice trailed off as she stared at the boulder she crashed into. Its surface, otherwise smooth with erosion, was covered in claw marks, scoring all the way up to the top. Some were more washed away with time than others but many, especially the ones facing away from the ocean, were as clear as the whiskers on her face. This wasn’t just the markings of one cat, but many, and over a clear course of time. Olive’s pelt prickled with excitement.

Forgetting her hunger, she yowled, “I’ve read about this! I’ve found it! This is where one of the past Clans lived!”

#FinClanTales #clangen #shipwrecked map #warriors #erin hunter warriors #warrior cats #warriors fanclan #warriors oc #oc #warriors fanfic #chapter 1 part 1 #part 1 of 2

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blogabook · 1 year

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Chapter 1: Part I

I see straight ahead of my body. I look down at my hands for a moment. I feel the air around me; it feels warm and moving.

We did it! I'm actually here on this planet!

What are you doing?

I hear a voice, though I do not see anyone else around.

I am standing.

Correct. Where are you standing?

"I'm standing in front of a structure," I say out loud, testing the vocals a little, "I think it is one of the important studies."

Correct. That is where we'll be taking shelter. And what is your name?

My name is N̶̛̛̦̔͒̉̓̓̽̅̃́̅̈́͗̈́͌͆̈́̆̂̂̉͌͂͂̈́̚̕̚͠͝͠ơ̵̧̻̠̖̟̖̮͔͚̳͚͎̮̩̠̈̎̈̌̏̏͊͒̋̄̇̈́̊́͊̑̇̈́̈́͋̇̒̂͆̋͆͋̆̑͘͜͝͠͝͝͠͝ą̵̨̧̨̢̡̛͖͍̹͚̤͉̠̭̬̙̫̭͚̙͓̱̜̳̬͙̠̲̼̥̻̥͎̲̳̘͉̲̺̙̻̜͙͖̳͍̍̑́̏͑̓͋̀̀̈́͗̈́̈́̑́͛͛́̄͂̈̾͑̊̃̋͑̎̚͘̕͘͘͠ͅṃ̵̡̧̢̡̡̤̰̝̟̜͇̝̰̟͔̮̫͈̺̣͈͙̟̼̦̺͔̤̞̜͔̣̪̫̠̣̟̣̇̊͑̈́̍͜͜͠ͅ.

No, your human name.

"Oh, it's Noam."

Correct. You're good to go now. The code is 7711. Find the opening labeled "stairs", then walk upwards till you find a possible opening with the number 3 beside it. Then you will need to find another one with the number 319 after you go through. Use the device we have provided to unlock that passage and you will be what they call "home."

Heard.

I carefully use my hands to touch the numbers on the keypad and it unlocks. I open it and use my legs to walk inside. There are so many things to investigate, but I know I can come back to study it later. I see the label that says "stairs" and walk up them.

What a great idea for beings who can't fly or float!

I easily find the number 3 opening and go through it. I don't remember the number.

What was I looking for again?

Number 319.

Right.

I finally find the number 319.

Of course, it would be the last place I look.

Quickly I check for the device that will unlock the final opening and I find something that is cool to the touch. It was also a bit shiny, reflecting the light. It works. I enter and close the opening behind me.

Good. Proceed with the mission how you best see fit, and we will be in contact again shortly. Good luck.

"Thank you," I say. It is quiet. I am alone here on this planet. But it is okay because I am not alone in the universe. I was chosen for this mission because I have a great passion for others. I am proud of myself, but I am also nervous. Nobody has explored this particular planet yet, so we have very limited information about it. I feel excited about my first mission even though I wasn't able to study for it much. Of course, it wasn't because of a lack of effort on my part, but because there simply wasn't enough information gathered from just flying around the outside of it.

I'm home.

I decide to explore the shelter further. To my left, there are surfaces with storage above and underneath them. To my right is another potential opening, but it has no keypad or lock on the outside of it. I open it.

It's empty. Must be some sort of storage, I don't think that's made for humans. I could only fit in there if I stood still!

I do not go in, I just close it again. I go further into the shelter to discover the utilities. I am reminded of the fact that beings who actually live have to consume and release things in order for their bodies to work.

That's not gonna be fun to remember. I hope there are warning signals that come with this thing.

I'm not used to a form that requires so much upkeep, but some say that's just part of the fun when you're on a mission like this. I think it sounds like a lot of effort, but this body is important for this to work. I vowed to take care of it the best I can, and I intend to do so. After all, this is the only one we've got. When this body dies, the mission is over. It is unlikely that I will ever get this chance again. Not impossible, but highly unlikely so I'm not counting on it.

I walk into a bigger area at the back of the shelter. It's not very much space, but it's more than where the locked opening is. In one corner there is a container labeled "air mattress", and in another is a small light source.

This is where my training comes in.

I know in order to get light from the light source, I have to connect it to an energy source. I find one in the wall and plug it in. We have more light now. On another part of the wall there is what appears to be an opening, but upon closer examination I found is actually just a transparent part of the wall. I guess it's to let the natural light in when it's there.

I don't know what a mattress is, but I know what air is. I also know I was told that I would be provided with a surface to sleep on, and I can't imagine they meant this hard floor beneath my feet. This container must be it. One of the things I remember learning about humans is that they seem to love to put things inside of other things.

I guess I could see the practicality of that If you want to keep places looking neat.

I open the container and take out what I assume is the air mattress. It also had a connector, so I plug that into the wall at the same area the light source is plugged into. I see a dial on the air mattress and I turn it to one side and the thing bursts into loud noise! I don't even have a comparison for it, all I know is that it is loud and I turn it off immediately. I realize now that it came with manual instructions, which I quickly decide to read. I guess it was supposed to do that.

Don't like that.

#Chapter 1 Part 1 #Noam #Chapter 1

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition.

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place.

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip.

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck.

The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital.

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten.

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled.

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but.

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.)

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen.

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair.

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants."

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him.

Would Harrington pitch a fit?

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did?

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper.

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life?

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it.

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--"

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out."

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying.

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness.

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone."

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box.

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home.

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope.

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet.

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand.

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list.

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that."

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face.

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him.

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

"You'll check up on Robin too, right?" He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?"

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years.

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here.

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder.

Several somethings, in fact.

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck.

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick.

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie.

An unfair advantage, really.

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly.

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie.

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting.

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie."

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

"What do you mean Si--Wayne."

"Nice catch.” Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.”

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much.

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither.

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat."

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked.

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?"

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret.

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt."

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle.

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end."

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink.

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?"

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be.

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless.

"Anybody else?" He asked.

"Nobody human." Steve replied.

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that.

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?"

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency, I'd be happy to."

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through.

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation.

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus. "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER."

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it.

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair."

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound.

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble.

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…"

"You take any today son?"

Steve his head.

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack.

Course he hadn't.

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in.

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once.