#ugh this is so long

[vrmxlho]

"so you must be the new sous-chef..."

"yes, that's me." the kitchen was much smaller than you anticipated. there was no staff either. you knew they were on a break but you just couldn't imagine any more than 10 people using the place. you had expected the great chef sae itoshi to have a vast kitchen with thousands of assistants and cooks so he wouldn't have to lift a finger. after all the restaurant he was running was no small place. 'so, he's picky with his staff' you thought. 'that feels oddly satisfying'. the fact that he was so young and handsome made it even more satisfying. someone your age accepting was an ego boost.

but he didn't even spare a moment to look at you. turning harshly, he threw an apron in your general direction and snapped his fingers twice, indicating he wanted you to follow him.

"you'll be working with me on the final presentation of all dishes before they are served." he looked back at you this time. not really at you but to more so to show you his sour, displeased face. "i take it you've worked as sous-chef with many other chefs before."

"yes."

"yes, chef. if you don't mind." again, he turned his displeased face over his shoulder and gave you a sickly, forced smile.

"sorry, chef."

"so you're incapable of running your own kitchen."

"i just want more experience as–"

"that wasn't a question or an invitation to talk."

there was this burning coil in your stomach as you both came to a halt in front of the main island. it stood right in middle of the kitchen but far from the fridge and the service doors. there were already three plates on it, each hosting components of the the great chef's speciality.

"i'd like to test your skills for a week. if i am unsatisfied, you'll have to find some other place. does that sound fair?"

"yes, chef." it didn't sound fair at all. your contract strictly stated that you would have this role for at least a year before anyone could even think of firing you. but what could you say? you couldn't anger him before you'd even started.

so, you slowly approached the three dishes and inspected them carefully. the first had a perfectly cooked sockeye salmon, with iridescent scales you could almost see yourself on, and a buttery pink flesh that smelled of lemongrass and green apple vinegar.

the next plate had flowers. many flowers. sprigs of lavender, spotted pansies and violas, bright and bitter marigolds, and heaps of small, gentle violets. you could still smell the life in them, as if they had just been picked.

the last plate had a single comice pear and a large orange. it was almost insulting to see the mass producing fruit company sticker still on both the fruits. yet inside, you knew this was a test of creativity. not of how well you could spot expensive ingredients.

"no sauce, chef?"

to this he looked at you gravely as if he was going to slaughter and serve you as the next 'it' dish. "i can only sauce dishes after i've examined them and i have made sure they're ready to go."

"what about white wine?"

"we serve that at the table."

"but where can i find some?"

"are you planning on drinking on the job or is there some other pressing reason?"

"i want to make something."

again, he looked at you, infuriated. this time he slammed his hand on a nearby island and spat, "you can do that when you get your own kitchen. if you get your own kitchen."

"it'll only take a moment." you said directing yourself towards the fridge door that loomed behind his imposing figure. you didn't really understand yourself. all you knew was that your body wanted, no needed, to move in that direction. but before you could reach the handle to open it he pulling you back by the waist until your back hit him.

his mouth was right above your ear. and he whispered in a menacing tone that felt as if it was sucking the life out of you. "i swear i will lock you in that fridge if you dare waste a single extra second. you could have been done by now."

"how am i supposed to prove my abilities if all i'm allowed to do is plate a dish with no taste or sauce?"

you didn't know why you were still whispering. what you also didn't know was why you were still being held to his chest by your waist. 'is this something i can tell HR?' somehow you chose not to. perhaps because you wanted to stay like that. his smell was intoxicating and you had to fight the urge to take a deep breath it.

"what abilities exactly? you come into my kitchen, tell me you want to make a sauce when you've clearly been instructed to plate. you have full liberty there, yet you are not satisfied." there was something very cold and cutting about his warm breathe on your ear and you felt a chill mix into your burning stomach. he slowly pulled his hand away from you and turned you around. your back was now flush against the cool metal fridge door as he towered over you menacingly. "what can i do for you? oh great sous-chef!" he mocked.

the coil in your stomach finally snapped and couldn't tell if you wanted to beat the life out of him or cry. you took a deep breathe and walked back to the island. you pulled a knife from a rack beside you as you quartered into the pear vertically and plated it with the salmon. you gently put the flowers around the fish in the centre to fill up the entire plate, leaving space only for sauce.

you were left with the massive orange, which you peeled and ate. a snack to be enjoyed. while staring sae dead in the eye. he probably wanted you to plate it with the salmon. elementally, they went wonderfully together. but all you wanted right then and there was him pissed, and on the table ready to be gutted alive. you were going to kill this man before your contract was up. that was a vow.

"this will have to do." he seemed to have given up at this petty war you had started. you didn't want him to back down, but what were you to do? you couldn't keep provoking him, that would get you no recommendation letters for future jobs. "we'll continue with this tomorrow."

and continue you did. it was as if that night's rest had spawned an even greater hate for you within him. all day you were running around the kitchen getting dishes ready for him to inspect and taste.

"this could use some sauce."

"you said not to use any or else it would overpower the taste of the quail. chef."

"did i? are you sure? why would i say something so ridiculous and untrue? quail is already much richer than any other poultry. i doubt a simple sauce would overpower this." again, he gave you that sickly, dead smile that made you squirm.

'then i suppose the other sae must have told me to leave the sauce out.' you thought. but you couldn't bring yourself to say it.

you too made the most repulsive face you could, before quietly saying, "my apologies, chef."

it didn't end on a simple sauce though. you were never the lucky type. and so, the harassment continued with everything you did.

"this sorbet is too icy. i could cut myself on the ice crystals."

so you changed it. you melted the base, added sugar and lanique and refroze it before serving, yet, it was still not enough.

"too much alcohol, this isn't supposed to be a digestif."

and you remade it completely. it was perfect, even he would agreed. yet he said nothing to compliment your work.

"i hope you don't need to make things three times before they're edible..."

would anyone really mind if you threw a knife at him then and there? you surely wouldn't. besides, with all the knives around an "accident" is bound to happen right? 'stay calm. just cope for another 12 months and you're good.' it was hard to convince yourself you were fine but you just had to.

"now blindfold yourself for the next task."

"why exactly?" you asked uncertainly. there was no way you were going to obstruct one of your senses in his presence.

"do as you're told."

"where am i supposed to find a blindfold? i'll just close my eyes. or turn around–"

he took a step closer to you. his face was mere inches from yours and you feared he could feel the heat rising to your face radiate off your skin.

he looked even better up close. you could see the pigments in his iris, the dialated pupils as if he was enjoying himself, his gracious eyelashes that curled perfectly the almost there freckles, his rosy nose, and his lips. his lips. his lips? how would you describe his lips? well, his lips looked kissable. that was really it. and you wanted to kiss them. you would've too if you didn't know any better.

you felt his hand slip close to the pocket near your stomach where he pulled out a silk blindfold. you could feel that same burning coil in your stomach and you suddenly felt nauseous. your heart was palpitating erraticaly as you wished to step away from him. but you couldn't. you were frozen.

"you're able to put a blindfold on right." he sighed as if just being in your presence was sickening.

"yes, chef."

it's a strange feeling, being robbed of your sight. 'i guess it's to heighten my sense of taste.' how foolish of you. he wasn't even thinking at that moment. he found himself wondering how soft those lips could feel. perhaps they would melt in his mouth just as your indian fig sorbet had done. what would your lips taste like? if he was going to kiss you he might as well feed you some mint.

"tell me what you taste."

you feel a cool metal spoon approach your mouth and you open it just a bit before you tasted the contents.

"honey."

"what, honey?"

"lavander. it's salty. and greengage prune. half-ripe."

"good. now try this."

this time the spoon faltered a little and a bit of whatever was in it was smeared on the corner of your lips. before you could quickly wipe it, you felt his fingers gently swipe over the area. the burning, nauseating coil in the pit of your stomach was cutting. it felt like a searing pan constantly hitting you or a knife pulling your skin off. your heart rate was increasinging steadily and you were reminisced to a time were you were free of such a fragile heart, a time before sae.

"confit peppers. and a seaweed sauce? or is it just very salty–"

"can i kiss you? please."

"why are you so polite suddenly?"

"please."

you didn't speak. you just parted your mouth slightly, eagerly, restlessly. the next thing you feel is a pair of lips on yours, soft and tender. he kissed you slowly and languidly, as if he were filled with a deep longing that he’d never experienced before.

when the kiss does come to an end, and you're left standing there, breathless and wanting more. the air is thicker, heavier even. the moment lingers as you hear the thundering of your hearts, and your panting breaths.

"mint? chef?"

for @earthtooz, ik you don't even like him but you're the only reason i finished this

[luvrxbunny]

not horny!

my mom doesn’t worry about me cus im so self sufficient but she’s also seemed to have forgotten that— idfk

so my mom for christmas got my little sister more presents than me which wouldn’t bother me if i literally didn’t try my best all year to be the best daughter i can be meanwhile she’s constantly fighting with my sister… but she gets more rewards? okay

on top of that she pulls me into her room to lmk that even though she got my sister more presents than me, she still doesn’t feel like she bought enough and is asking me for suggestions…. wtf

okay and now i’m supposed to get my hair done (by her) and she was supposed to start today.. she comes home, i make dinner, and i ask her if she wants to start but she says it’s too late now.. tbf it’s 8:00 but she got home at 6:00 and we had no food so i had to make a whole meal.. if you had told me to have dinner ready before you got home i would’ve done that

but since she was supposed to start my hair today, and continue tomorrow, i cancelled plans with my bsf and we rescheduled to Sunday

but now my mom says that just because she didn’t start my hair today, she’s gonna do my sisters hair first and mine second, which means i have to cancel with my friend again. we usually see each other once a week but i haven’t seen them in 2 wks already

am i being sensitive? like idk i’m really upset abt this but maybe i should just chill

it just feels like.. because i try my best to not stress her out, to try and take care of myself, i feel like that suddenly gives me the short end of every stick just because i’m able to handle myself

like she knows i don’t want to seem ungrateful or anything so i’m not gonna complain but it’s still upsetting

[nothingleftofyou]

——— a grand welcome to the vieux carré, RORY ANSON. with a city as diverse as this, there’s a new threat on almost every corner. being a WEREWOLF might provide some protection but their biggest strength may come from being loyal to THE INITATIVE. many see them as a SOLIDER which is why AND MY ARMS ARE TOUGH BUT THEY CAN BE BENT / THEY CAN BE BENT / AND I WANNA FIGHT BUT I CAN’T CONTEND seems to fit them perfectly. whispers say they’re from the FUTURE. can it all be believed? just keep an eye on them and see if their true colors shine through.

there's a tldr at the end for all interested parties.

cary anson was a werewolf raised amongst his pack who had settled in the bayou werewolf encampments. the last of his family, cary had been left in possession of the moonlight amulet. a gift from esther mikaelson to her lover, the stone was enchanted to prevent a werewolf shifting on the night of the full moon while in use. it was this very amulet that led to the attention of klaus mikaelson. the hybrid provided his descendants with protection, with cary offering aid in discovering the origin of the moonlight amulet. it wasn't before long that the bombings occurred, losing more and more of his family, it wasn't until the guerrera family made their move that cary finally fled new orleans, abandoning his pack in the process. eventually finding himself in the states, and it was there he met a woman named bradley. the two fell in love, eventually being wed. it was 2014 when their happy life came to a halt. lucien castle had been hunting for werewolves of the original 7 bloodlines, using the combination to use their venom for lethal strains and attempting to drive them to extinction. so cary and bradley ran like hell. it was some years later they encountered hayley marshall who convinced cary to donate some of his venom in exchange for a future favor of his choosing.

in was in 2024 that bradley and cary finally settled down once more in new orleans, enjoying the peace the city now provided. they finally felt safe enough to begin a family. thus, rory anson was born (the real protagonist of this intro, sorry cary). this safety lasted all of two years before war erupted back in new orleans, vampires hunting werewolves and the eventual death of hayley marshall. the anson family took the chaos at hayley marshall's funeral as a sign to leave new orleans once again on the run, only now with a toddler. now, alone again, they were hunted once more by vampires and actual hunters alike. so rory spent their formative years calling the forest home. often used to the sky over his head rather then any kind of building.

rory was 5 when his mother became a vampire. after so long in fear of them, cary felt unable to trust her and so in the light of day he ran, taking a confused child away from their mother. the grief of losing bradley, unable to bare the thought of her now being a vampire too, caught up to cary. putting their moonlight necklace around his child's neck, he started making more dangerous decisions. killing the vampires and hunters after them on night's of a full moon, and leaving a 6 year old child alone. it was one of these nights that an incident occurred. rory climbed tree and then fell from it. hard. with a broken arm, and a crying child, cary realized he was unequipped to be a parent any longer. traveling to mystic falls, and hoping that perhaps hope mikaelson would be willing to deliver on their mother's once promised favor. it was there that cary took, and left, rory. not even giving his son a proper goodbye (hello abandonment issues, this would be a long relationship).

it was only three days after cary's abandonment that rory tried to run away and find him. caught by hunters, rory would have been killed if not for the intervention of hope mikaelson. something of which created a bond between the two. the next four years were spent with hope being the only person that rory trusted, one of the people who understood the pain of staying at the boarding school when everyone else went home. the only person who ever came to visit rory, despite no longer being a student. hope was family, though rory never dared asked if they felt the same in fear of rejection of heartbreak that was so well acquainted.

it was midst the war that rory, alongside all other children among them, was sent to quor'toth. the next 18 years were spent in the hell dimension, with rory often finding the humans among them far more monstrous then any demons they encountered. eventually killing one in self defense. but with the amulet still in possession, rory was never forced to turn into a werewolf. upon rescue, only 18 days later in their home dimension. there was little time to digest much of anything before they were suddenly in 2012.

it took only nine days in the past for rory's first and only kill to catch up to them. it'd been the son of a member of the initiative, and in vengeance for their child rory was abducted. implanted with behavior-modification circuitry, a cerebral microchip that rendered rory unable to willingly harm or attempt to harm humans without causing debilitating pain, rory was tortured and experimented on. dubbed hostile 121, rory spent three weeks in captivity before being rescued by a former prisoner on a revenge kick.

tldr; rory is the son of cary (the last descendant of ansel). went to salvatore boarding school as a kid, went to the hell dimension, triggered wolfiness there, and then got kidnapped by the initiative and chipped.

[puppyeared]

basement guys

[paimt]

its just supervised phone calls like

in the wise words of stan himself: give me money

[junotter]

My redesigns for aged up gaang

[hansoeii]

fem presenting loki!

[potato-lord-but-not]

human John anyone ????

[coloredlion]

sacrifice.

[grapefruit185]

he loves those dumb twins sm, the found family aspect of this show makes me go crazy!!!!!!!

(1st pic is referencing this post lol)

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x03 - “Finally Got The Name Right” ↳ "You must declare martial law. Appoint a general to lead until this threat has been vanquished. Someone who will not pale when faced with Zaun's degeneracy. Whose conviction never wavers. A pillar of your community whose house has always stood for progress. Who may consider my experience and my entire detachment of Noxian soldiers at their disposal. Until all our families are safe. Of course, I could only be referring to..."

[lover-of-mine]

#good thing dude said almost

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[sp0o0kylights]

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. 

[vanmarkus]

9-1-1 • S5E14 “I think I'm dying.” “You're always dying.”

[apparently-artless]

kaiju no. 8 episode 11 - hibino kafka & the 3rd division defense force

bonus: 3rd division saluting to their captain when they are in fact saluting to kafka ♡( ◡‿◡ )