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litfever · 9 months

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ittosara / early twenties, building their home

<3 modern au

The first piece of furniture they buy for the new apartment is a dining table.

It's wood and old and they found it on Facebook Marketplace for a suspiciously low price, but it's the first thing in their new home that's wholly theirs. They buy it with both of their money- Itto's salary and the bit of money Sara gets from her scholarship stipend.

Itto watches a bunch of YouTube videos and he splurges on paint strippers and buffers and whatever tools he would need for building and repairing, because this was his home, and he'd be damned if he wouldn't take care of it.

He still goes to work, he's always mainly done consultation and remote working (computer/design) stuff, and he's thankful for the pay and flexibility since he liked that there was someone who could look after the apartment most of the time. Sara is still a full-time law student, and she's also interning at a corporate law firm. Once, she told him she was thinking about doing financial consultation work to help him with money, but he told her he could handle the bills and expenses in the meantime because he saw how tired she is all the time. He loves her and he knows she can support herself but he wants to take care of her, too. Whenever she feels bad about it he tells her she really shouldn't, and when she insists, he tells her she has the rest of their lives to make it up to him.

Whatever free time he has is dedicated to fixing whatever he can. He strips the dining table and chairs and sands them down until the beautiful grains of the wood can be seen. He uses a dark stain and Sara almost cries the first time she sees the finished product.

Sara buys new faucets and a showerhead the next day.

Before long, they have a couch (which Itto re-upholsters) and a bed frame (which he also spruces up). They decide to splurge on a nice mattress after about three months of saving (they've been using their college mattresses; squeezed together). Living together had felt like an extended sleepover at that point, like how they used to camp at each other's dorm rooms back in undergrad. But, sleeping on the mattress that they bought for themselves for the first time made everything feel so much more real. They both wake up earlier than usual the next morning, both planning on bringing the other breakfast in bed. They laugh and cook together, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, the morning sun illuminating them both.

Itto also starts a mini garden in their kitchen, just herbs at first, lined up on their windowsill and pleasantly green. Then, it grows, and before long Itto has potted plants all over their one-bedroom one-bathroom. Itto waters them and Sara dusts them off.

There is one corner of their apartment that's been designated as Sara's study space and another as Itto's working space. Itto leaves her encouraging sticky notes all over her sticky-note wall, and Sara cleans and prepares fruits for him so he can grab whatever he needs from the fridge when she's away.

At night, Itto usually cooks, and Sara cleans. Sometimes she tells him she's had a long day, so he turns his phone's volume the entire way (Taylor Swift and Radiohead and who else is in their shared playlist) and they dance and sway before they go to bed. When he tells her he's had a long day, they sit on their couch- or, Sara sits, and Itto lays with his head on her lap, and they talk. Or, Sara talks (about her classes or her internship or her friends or whatever book she's read most recently) and runs her fingers through his hair and he listens. Her voice has always calmed him, after all. He doesn't think it will ever change, no matter how many years pass.

In their second year in the apartment, they get a dog, and they name it Dog, which Itto finds exceedingly funny. Sara doesn't, so they get a cat the next year and name it Algernon.

When she graduates, Itto and his entire family hold a party for her. All their friends are there, too. She looks at him and the cake in his hands and thinks that she's never felt so loved before. Itto tells her he will spend the rest of their lives making her feel this way.

#ittosara #arataki itto #kujou sara #modern au #not quite a fic but not not a fic #if you know what i mean #genshin impact #genshin itto #genshin sara #they take care of each other :(#i love them #my job is just ittosara #(ken voice ofc)#algernon the cat someone please laugh at me #i didn't say it outright but sara is no longer being supported by her dumb dad here #i hate him if you cant tell #i wrote this in one sitting and I'm kind of crazy about them #pls be crazy w me #mwah

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

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Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

#danny speaks in formal english when he's pissed. he goes full on 'i shall eat his heart in the marketplace' levels of formal #not quite a ficlet not quite a post talking about the idea but a secret third option: its both of these at the same time #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp au #dpxdc au #dcdp #dpdc au #dp dc crossover #older brother danny #danny is an asshole with a heart of gold #the writing feels all over the place but since its not a fic i dont feel that self conscious about it lol. very much spitballing here #morally gray danny fenton #poc danny fenton #look ellie MIGHt - and thats a big if - have gotten away with the cousin lie if it weren't for the fact that she's danny's clone #danny who is not white nor remotely white-passing in this au. she might have gotten away if he had been and she claimed she was #from jack's side of the family. but alas. danny is adopted. the fentons are whiter than sunscreen. and danny is not.#dani and danny's meeting in danyal al ghul aus have the potenial of being IMMEDIATE dumpster fires which is very funny to me #on the basis of if danny knows he's adopted or not and if dani claims to be related directly to him or to jack.#dani: im your third cousin once removed :)#danny. is adopted: i kNOW YOU LYING. CUZ YO LIPS ARE MOVING #i got fanart for this au on haunting heroes discord and it kickstarted my thoughts about danyal again. they gave him the BATWING EYEBROWS #ellie has the batwing eyebrows too that was the mind killer thats what fucked her over /j. those are UNIQUELY BRUCE WAYNE BROWS FOLKS #fuck i wish tumblr told us on laptop when we run out of tags because i just lost like 4 of them. good thing i got screenies those were FUNN

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vampireposter · 4 months

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meeting wyll at the grove, as someone who the tieflings trust enough to train their children, says so much about him. it's so sad that he doesn't get explored in acts 2-3 as deeply as the other companions, when his problems are equally intense. the average player probably long rests once before coming across the grove, but even if not, in that time wyll has already proven to the tieflings that they can rely on the Blade of Frontiers.

this is the immediate first thing he chooses to do after being condemned to slow death via ceremorphosis. his priority list in the first conversations with tav is: 1) hunt down a dangerous devil, 2) help zevlor with the goblins, 3) once nothing threatens the tieflings he will gladly search for a tadpole cure. wyll is perpetually his own last priority, and i wonder if it has to do with the lore about souls.

if he believes mind flayers' souls have been destroyed, and fiend warlocks will all have their souls sent to the hells after death, then becoming a mind flayer isn't the worst possible way for him to die. he would never become a mindless monster to save his own soul, but he's not gripped by horror the way that some of the other origin characters are. lae'zel has been made revoltingly impure to her people, astarion is terrified of losing the scrap of bodily autonomy he just regained, gale is guilt-ridden over the orb detonation if he dies, shadowheart has to survive to prove herself to her cult leader, and karlach has also just regained bodily autonomy and is desparate to live.

this is just another quest for the Blade, whose persona guards wyll ravengard against the vice of self-concern when he ought to be concerned for those in need.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 #writing a wyll pov thing in order to roleplay harder in my durge playthrough & ive become obsessed w him #i love him so much. he doesnt even really get to realize in-game how traumatized he is and in act 3 he has not healed any really #come here wyll we are going to learn about self care. you & durge need to overcome the desire to give up your lives for your fathers ideals #faerun doesnt have LMHCs so wyll gets my durge who currently thinks he is (a miserable failure of) a cleric of ilmater.#this fic is practice for my 'ascended tavastarion struggle to quit being Like That' character study thing wherein i am struggling w dialogu #loving working on both. im in my little dollhouse making my toys try out lines until they fit #vampireposted

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dirtgrubber · 2 days

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“oh you…”

@morningstarwrites you literally kill me every time you post a chapter

#of saints and sinners #radioapple #alastor #lucifer #hazbin hotel #my art #if you’re a slowburn girly go check out the fic #can’t believe you made me draw a harp #what’s next??#idk if alastor was still wearing his turtleneck from the party but i quite enjoy drawing him in it soooo

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bodega-catto · 4 months

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Geto is such a jealous guy oh my god

#jjk #gojo satoru #satosugu #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #sugusato #gego #it’s a good thing that Gojo quite literally only has eyes for him #good for them good for them #FIC WRITERS PLEASE MORE OF THIS

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 8 months

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i'm suddenly thinking about rockstar!eddie shooting a music video on some naval ship and meeting actual sailor!steve who's all dressed up in his whites 'cause eddie's a big name star and the captain said everyone had to look their best and eddie immediately folding for the pretty guy in uniform

just: eddie wanting a couple of the guys to act in the video 'cause hopefully then they'd actually know what they're doing, and asking the capt to point out his most competent sailor. the capt immediately points out one of his low-ranking ensigns (like, brand new baby officer 'cause that's the kinda shit an officer would pull) and eddie, having been raised by wayne (who i'm hc-ing as a navy vet) knows better and is immediately like "No sir, I said your most competent, not your least. someone point me to THE second class. Where's he? I need an enlisted guy." and a higher-ranking chief that's been following the band around the ship all day bellows out a laugh and says "You're gonna want Harrington, Mr. Munson."

idk idk, it's niche but for some reason my mind went into the cold clammy depths of my time in the navy this morning and i was like 'NOPE! don't wanna dwell here, make it fun! make it about the blorbos so you dont get sad!!' lmao

#the worms wormed a little bit this morning #i have a whole hc about the song for the video being one that jeff wrote about missing his gf while out on tour #but it's also just about long distance/missing someone in general and eddie's like 'ya okay i don't quite get it' but he's the lead singer #so he's gonna be the one headling the vid and they decide on a ship cause what else is that longing but missing your SO while on deployment #crossover of fic readers and those who have inside knowledge of the /actual/ inner workings of being on a ship is slim to none #but that sliver includes me lmao #does this count as lore?#i'm gonna say it does #noelle lore #steddie #steddie hc #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #sailor!steve #sailor!steve x rockstar!eddie

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courfee · 26 days

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“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft.

— Tender Curiosities, Baby! @otrtbs

#ive thought about this scene for so long it just took me forever to draw cause once again the anatomy of cars is the bane of my existence #like originally i wanted evan and barty holding hands to be visible to have the contrast of sad lonely james and sad not lonely rosekiller #but alas cars wont allow it #ahb just still has my entire heart you dont get it #i have a none blurry rosekiller and a just james in front of blue with stars version of this but i think ill only put them on insta...#tender curiosities baby #art heist baby #james potter fanart #james potter #jegulus #rosekiller #rosekiller fanart #marauders #marauders fanart #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #jegulus fanart #jegulus fanfiction #fic: ahb #art heist baby!#mine #my art #hp #ahb #(sneaky end notes: i do have to admit i am not too pleased with evan and barty but this was my first time drawing them)#(so i couldnt figure it out quite yet hency why they look a little. less efforty...)#(also the snake ring is the same design that i drew for chapter 34 of ahb in my little chapter illustrations for my typeset)#((nvm i just checked back and i am fully lying here i used a different one for my typeset and now im vaguely upset oops)#(i shouldnt make decisions only half awake im going to think about this for too long now i am sad))#((like suddenly i was like. hold up. i had a different design there didnt i... it was an open ring goddamnit))

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities.

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking.

Right.

Pain management.

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot.

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice.

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit.

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer.

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open.

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it.

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed.

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up.

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick."

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed."

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit.

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it.

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store.

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted.

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand.

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed.

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed.

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture.

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.'

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday.

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire.

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it.

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights.

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two.

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this.

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight.

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches.

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over.

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home.

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it.

Not in general, and definitely not for this.

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill.

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go.

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good."

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes.

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced.

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo.

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago.

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly.

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything.

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons.

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them.

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental.

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth.

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face.

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve?

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch."

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least.

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off.

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side.

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife.

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know."

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face.

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door.

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?"

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed.

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react.

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne.

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?”

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.”

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train.

All gas, no breaks.

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant.

‘Dammit.’ Wayne thought with a sigh.

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats.

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid.

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve.

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit.

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face.

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?”

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.”

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time.

God save him from idiot teenagers.

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking.

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills.

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit.

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind.

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?”

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb.

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,”

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious.

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases.

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position.

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent.

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.”

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed.

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation.

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home.

“Good.” Wayne said.

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room.

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer.

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways.

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag.

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both.

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked.

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep.

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with.

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him.

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute.

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure.

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on.

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet.

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on.

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain.

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out.

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid.

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse.

He just had to find the right words.

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up!#little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

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ghostbsuter · 5 months

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He's hiding, the half collapsed pillar in an abandoned office building, halfway ruined and completely left to collapse in metropolis.

His core is pulsing, air freezing and eyes not focused.

Metropolis is big and bright.

There is no way they could get him here, not with kryptonian heroes at its beck and call. Danny saw Supergirl save the day, the big blue at her tail, saving civilians.

Danny followed the official daily planet channel and reads along every line Lois Lane and her husband, Clark Kent, write each time, making people aware of problems, and most importantly exposing people.

The rich and corrupted.

So yes, is it frightening? Anxiety filling? Putting trust into complete strangers in hopes they'd uncover the Guys in White if they appear in the city?

Yes, yes it is.

He hopes Jon, the boy he has been helping with homework in a cafe, won't miss him too much in case it does happen.

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ennyxy · 2 months

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ONE OF THE BIGGEST SELF-INDULGENT THINGS I'VE DONE WOOOOO

For @shadeofsilentfire and my definitely favorite UTY fanfic I've read jwjdjdjfje

I would have definitely done it anyway eventually cuz I did say I wanted to doodle more moments from the fic, but thank you for suggesting I draw this moment specifically, Shade, it's one of my favorites, and you gave me the push I needed to actually finish it hehe

Honestly there's a reason this fic has the most kudos in the UTY tag guys!!!!

#undertale yellow #uty #undertale #flowey #undertale flowey #flowey the flower #undertale yellow spoilers #?#uty clover #undertale yellow clover #fanart #my art #falling out of trouble is amazing istg ive read quite a few uty fics but its def my fave in the crowd #falling out of trouble #fo2t

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tangledinink · 3 months

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:000 happy one year of i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now?

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isjasz · 4 months

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Cherries, from fruit to pit. Atoms. The sun, every day. Worms. Mulch. Perspiration. The moon, every night. Me. You.

Rebirth.

The various cycles of life and death.

<GoodTimeWithScar> fell from a high place.

——————————

EXPLODES THE DOOR ITS HSBB TIMEEEEE This is my piece for @minecraftbed's incredible fic "Gaussian Blur" in @hermitshippingbigbang :D

Go read it for the full context of the comic (and details if you can spot them!) heheeehehe I love it sm and had sm fun doing the comic! The concept is so cool and the feels are KSALDHTHRGRRHRH (please i have been losing it)

SO *grabs you by the shoulders and throws you directly at it* gogogogo 👉👉👉👉👉

#dddaily4sherin #day 212 too YIPPEE #hermitshipping #scarian #desert duo #hermitblr #my art #comic #HSBB 2023 #i am srs i am throwing you towards the fic like hurling a brick DO IT NOW #also rain my beloved i found a new way to draw it and experimented with it a bit here :D #this event is so fun i swear. ty to all the mods AND THERE'S MORE TO COME SOOONNNN #also toby no crocs L #also*2 the shipping is there but its really more of a “almost but not quite what are they romance” as the tags say in the fic #its such a perfect description LOL #scar please not the goddamn basement

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ellitx · 3 months

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Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down.

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away.

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

#hmm i love me toxic dynamic pairings #im quite surprised most of the fics i found were wholesome #which i admit are very cute #but the toxicity of alastor tormenting his darling??#mwah chefs kiss #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #elliwrites

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