#and their old houses instead of putting them up for sale

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver

Danny is smart.

He knows he is brilliant.

He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.

He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.

Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.

Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.

Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.

Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.

The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.

Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.

Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.

His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.

He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.

Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house

. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.

That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.

His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.

Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.

Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.

Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.

"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."

Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.

"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."

Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.

"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"

Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.

It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.

Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.

It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.

Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.

It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.

It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.

It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.

Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.

Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.

Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.

Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.

Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.

Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.

He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.

Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.

Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.

Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.

Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.

Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.

That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.

Danny hadn't thought.

He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.

It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.

He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.

Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.

"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."

"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"

"Oh just a-"

"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.

Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.

The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."

Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.

"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.

"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""

"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.

Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."

"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"

Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"

"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"

"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"

Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.

Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."

"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."

"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.

Master Post Link

[hopeastrz]

STELLIUMS IN SOLAR RETURN CHART tips and tricks on what to avoid and how to benefit from them!˙✧˖°🥮 ༘ ⋆｡˚‧.

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If you don’t have a 3 planet stellium, see where you have 2 planets, so for example if you have sun and mercury on the 3rd house and mars and saturn on the 7th read about both houses!.

NOTE: enjoy this post and don’t forget to reblog, thank you for your support, lots of love xoxo!! ₊˚⊹౨ৎ🍊.

STELLIUM IN THE FIRST HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, get a nice haircut, get to know your approach to life more, get to know your direction in life and what may be the next step for you, it’ll be a year of self discovery journey, and it’s the best year to work on your approach of life, you should focus more on your style, see what suits you and what doesn’t, work on your self concept and build your confidence and also it’s the greatest time to find your passion!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Becoming aggressive, moody or be hard on yourself, becoming critical/judgmental of others and yourself!, not taking care of yourself, shy away from spotlight don’t hesitate to!, becoming way too self centered and thinking that people reactions are because something you’ve done!.

STELLIUM IN THE SECOND HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Buy new makeup, perfumes, work on your self worth, start investing money I don’t care even if you have saturn on the 2nd house start a business and earn from it!, since it’s a saving year indicator, one where you look for more stability and comfort, take care of your finances and learn more about how money works!, learn to manage your money right and spend it wisely, become strict!, it’s really good time to start giving old things in order to welcome new ones, like old clothes or possessions, since you may have this urge to keep buying new things, and in order to keep balance learn to donate your stuff, good karma and do that especially if you have saturn!, start singing loudly too it’ll be healing!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Spend wisely so that you don’t cry at the end of the year, don’t waste the opportunity and reconsider you values, set firm boundaries and goals, also don’t waste time and truly buy stuff you only need!, never put your emotional health and security second place, care more about your feelings!.

STELLIUM IN THE THIRD HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Whenever you feel anxious journal, or go on a car ride even if you don’t have a car, call a cab or go on a bus and put your headphones on, but it’s an amazing time to work on how you introduce yourself, or in other words practice how to talk your mind, communicate with people, and how to share your opinions properly!. it’s a great year to learn about the law of assumption, get closer to your siblings or your neighbors, you can buy a new cell phone, get lots of phone calls and even do lots of social activity or finish high school!, if you suck at maths that year is pretty good to learn the basics again and educate yourself on it, also go on short trips find new interests and start a social media account.

WHAT TO AVOID:

DO. NOT. OVERSHARE. learn how to shut up when needed and i know you’ll have an urge to talk to no end but please shut up!, also don’t indulge yourself into gossip it’ll end up being so messy, try to stop overthinking and don’t believe any rumor you hear!, also take care of your siblings!.

STELLIUM IN THE FOURTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

great time to go back to your roots, aka work on your family trauma or stuck issues with your family and heal from them!, you may start a new family, become a parent, settle down, buy a new apartment or move from your home, so to have a fresh it’s okay to forgive them!, heal your inner child and read more about such topics, focus on your emotional needs and understand yourself more, if you’re a fem then lean into it more, get closer to your mother, decorate your room, also it’s a great time to buy properties and invest or learn cooking and baking yummy yummy!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

getting into fights with your parents because they’ll get on your nerves alot!, so for your mental health pay them no mind!, don’t keep your place messy.

STELLIUM IN THE FIFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

EVERYTHING, i love love loveee this placement and not just for the romance nuh uh, as a woman who doesn’t even date I’ve had the most fun on year i had 5th house placements, go to concerts, festivals and arcades, party and enjoy your life really, you won’t feel like you wasted your money on these things trust me, go to an art course, go to movie theater!, just go out and don’t stay at home!, also enjoy your talents and get ready for the spotlight!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

hookups, unprotected sex since it might lead to sudden pregnancies, getting lost at new places, getting a bit over the head, be careful of becoming narcissistic or kinda full of yourself!, also choose your romance partner carefully don’t rush into love, because you’ll see the world in heart tainted sunglasses this year!.

STELLIUM IN THE SIXTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Think about getting a glow up, it’s the best time for self improvement, plan a routine and follow it, even if you found it hard to build one before it’ll feel easier this year to stick to it!, greatest time to start a series of new habits, work on your body and focus on your health, try building muscles, bulking, going to the gym or walking more, try to journal, read frequently and heal your skin, do some skin care, also get your body checked, get along with your coworkers and focus more on how to make the best out of your job!, routine will never fail you oh and maybe get a pet too!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Avoid over stressing/overtiring yourself, ignore your health or hygiene, avoid going into fights with your coworkers, beware of becoming a people pleaser or give more than you take to others, beware of stray animals, don’t go on a very strict diet especially if you have pluto on the 6th house!.

STELLIUM IN THE SEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

start a business with others, or start your own business, go for that lawsuit, look for that long term partner or take the step for up leveling your current relationship. Incase of getting married enjoy the process of this new era!, it’s the best time to test your partner and see if they’re worthy enough of you!, also enjoy the feeling of becoming extra attractive!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Beware of getting into useless conflicts, don’t be over concerned of others, beware of love affairs especially if you’re already dating someone, beware of getting scammed i’d say don’t take the step of business partnership if you have uranus or neptune influence on the 7th house.

STELLIUM IN THE EIGHTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Embrace new major transformations, get ready for change and allow it!, explore your sexuality more, invest, join the stock market (don’t if you have neptune or uranus), learn spiritual practices because you’ll get more spiritual, best times to learn astrology and tarot, keep secrets, learn more about psychology, do that plastic surgery you’ve had in mind if needed only, also heal your trauma.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Go against the flow and get scared of the rebirth you need to go through, hate the constant change and how intense your emotions could be.

STELLIUM IN THE NINTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Choose a different college major, adopt new beliefs and focus on your higher education, travel more, good time to visit your grandparents, try to stay with them more, learn a new language, learn about you religion and just literally learn anything!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Going to a country without any background of their culture is!, see what’s appropriate to do and what’s not, ignore your university studies or just basically getting distracted!.

STELLIUM IN THE TENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Time to build your legacy, go all out!, also work on your reputation, time to build the public persona you dreamt of, set long term goals and know what you want to be in the next 5 years, fulfill your responsibilities and get ready for recognition!, also fix your problems with your father, get closer to your bosses, network!, build a professional name and really get serious about building your career!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Doing things that’s harmful or shady for your reputation, avoid suspicious things this year because everyone will have you on the tip of their tongue. Not taking your responsibilities and your work seriously, disrespecting your bosses, procrastinating, not being professional or efficient.

STELLIUM IN THE ELEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Networking for your career, become more social, meet new people, change your toxic friends circle, cut who you don’t feel comfortable with!, go out more, learn about the law of assumption, manifest your desires, GET THAT BAG, start a new social media account or an online business and earn from it!, very high potential for success, watch new films, save to buy a new phone or laptop, know what you hope and wish for in the future to aim for it, make your debut in society and share your work and talents, go to parties, donate to some organizations and also join a club!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Letting toxic people stay in your life this is the best time to cut them, don’t know anything about politics or have any sense of social awareness, be shy and miss lots of opportunities, not knowing you boundaries when it comes to friends and relationships!.

STELLIUM IN THE TWELFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Heal, this is a rest era for you, take some time for yourself and heal, repay your karmic debts, focus more on your dreams and try interpreting them, see the messages they have for you, tame your subconscious mind for your own benefit, become more spiritual and seriously, take this time to explore your emotions more and your inner self, find your peace and find solitude in yourself!, best time to end toxic habits and relationships, basically anything you want to stop, listen to subliminals, affirmation tapes, cherish your privacy and stay private, reflect on the past and break free from what’s holding you back, also sleep more and attempt a healthy sleeping schedule, oh and eat fish lmao.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Repeating old cycle, this is really an opportunity to change!, ignore your dreams, become isolated, become depressed because you’ll trauma will surface so HEAL, ignore your subconscious mind needs and thought patterns, drink or consume alcohol, beware of addictions.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[ash5monster01]

Turnstiles

Chapter Four - I’ve Loved These Days 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, abandonment issues, slight sadness.

Summary: You and Steve get your first place together and even if it isn’t glamorous, it’s good enough for the both of you as you leave the old days behind.

word count: 2.6k

Three ←→ Five

Masterlist

Summer 1988

We hide our hearts from harder times

There were so many boxes. It seemed to be a never ending pile from the back of the moving truck, one neither of you could really afford but needed. Even with Dustin and Robin helping carry each new box in, it seemed every time you returned to the truck there was just as many if not more. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you looked at the very daunting pile that you knew would take you more than likely a month to finally put all in place.

“Don’t tell me we’re giving up already” that familiar sultry voice whispered in your ear, arms snaking around your waist from behind.

“Not giving up, just trying to gain the courage” you tell him, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. You knew as much as Steve would try to help he would also play with everything he unpacked before actually putting it away, making the process much longer than it needed to be.

“It’s not that bad” Steve said with a soft shake of his head, small tufts of hair falling loose from the action.

“Yes it is, you packed every trophy you have ever earned in your entire life” you tell him, pointing to the large box labeled ‘Steve’s Achievements’.

“Hey I earned those, I can’t just throw them out” Steve pouts as you break out of his arms, doing your best attempt at climbing up into the truck to grab another box.

“I know handsome, I just have to tease” you say leaning down and he’s happy to bring his pouty lips to yours and leave a quick kiss. As much as you teased, you had felt bad. When Steve announced to his parents you were officially getting a place together they decided to put the house up for sale since they were never there anyways. As much as Steve didn’t have a great childhood it was still the only home he had ever known. You knew it took a toll on him and forced him to pack every single one of his belongings instead of the necessities.

“Hey dingus, why are we the only ones carrying shit?” Robin called out as she stepped out the doors of the small apartment, spotting you juggling a new box while Steve lingered at the back of the truck.

“I need my rest Robin, if Rosy’s shit wasn’t so heavy” he called back and you shot him a quick glare which made him laugh softly.

“You’re an idiot” Robin mumbled as you handed her the box in your arms and picked up a new one.

“What the hell Steve! Why are the girls the only one’s carrying your shit?” Dustin called out, exiting the home as well and you and Robin quickly erupt in giggles as Steve groans out.

“I don’t have a box in my arms for two seconds and I get harassed. What the hell is this?” Steve says mostly to himself, jumping up into the truck much easier than you did and you watch as he goes for one of the small boxes.

“Uh-uh mister. You’re bringing that one in” you say, nodding your head to the trophy box and Steve rolls his eyes before doing what he was told.

“God you’re so whipped” Robin snorts before starting back for the apartment ready to unload the boxes as fast as she can.

“I’m not whipped!” he called out quickly in defense but Dustin just laughed and grabbed a box for himself.

“It’s okay Stevie, you’re allowed to be whipped. I definitely am for you” you tell him sweetly and he grins, the oddly large trophy box now in his arms.

“I love you” he hums out, leaning and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before hopping out of the truck. Your heart flutters due to the sentiment, never getting tired of the words he finally spoke a year and a half ago. Well actually wrote but ever since then he told you every chance he got and you loved it every time.

It had been over three years since you met Steve Harrington and you were pretty sure you’d never get tired of him. He came to you when you needed him most and you did the same for him. Since that day you hadn’t spent a day apart and making this decision, deciding to live together, after years of working and saving money, you had no regrets at all. This was it, he was your soulmate and this was only the beginning of a lifetime of years ahead. Small apartment or not, he was yours and that alone was a breath of relief.

“Need an invitation?” Robin called to you from the small house and you just chuckled before grabbing your things and making your way to the house. A house that would probably hold you and Steve for another few years, be your shelter from the storm, and despite its empty walls and bare floors, you couldn’t wait to make it a home.

It’s dusk by the time all the boxes are unloaded into your home and Robin and Dustin are long gone. Just looking at the mess you know you’re too tired to face it until tomorrow, so you make do with what you have. You make quick work of making a bed of the mattress on the floor, saving the frame building for tomorrow. When it looks decent enough to sleep on you make your way out of your room to find Steve. Much to your surprise he’s in the living room, boxes now cleared off the coffee table, and take out from the local diner on the table.

“I made dinner” he grins at you, sitting on the ground as he pours you a glass of wine in a mug. You giggle at the thought of it being the only thing he could find and join him on the floor.

“What’s this for?” you curiously ask, taking the mug from his hand and smiling at the food and candle he had set up.

“This is to taking our time. The last few years have felt like a race to the finish line and we finally made it” he says, recalling all the long hours and savings account expenses. Had it not been for the alternator going in Steve’s BMW you would’ve been here much sooner but at least you were here.

“Cheers to that” you say, clinking the mug against his own before taking a sip. Steve just smiles and looks to the simple plate of food. He loved that you both could live your lives so nonchalant, spend your nights living a luxurious lifestyle even if it’s just a small apartment.

“The money comes, the money goes, but we finally made it baby” he tells you and you quickly kiss him before grabbing the wrapped burger that your stomach grumbles for. Not realizing how hungry you were after a whole day of moving.

His words wash a sense of comfort over you. Knowing now you could spend your days a bit more relaxed, eat dinner in silk robes and light lamps for atmosphere. Even if the apartment was a passing phase in the start of the rest of your life you were both going long. Hanging hopes on chandeliers while gaining weight and sleeping in late. You had loved those days before living together but it was time to change your ways and love these new days. The days meant for just the two of you before something more comes along, something bigger.

“Did your parents say when they’re selling the house?” you ask around a bite of your burger, trying to get a better read on him and how he feels.

“By the end of the month, Dad says if I need anything to get it by then” he mutters, heart clenching over the fact. He hated that empty house, despised it, but these last few years it wasn’t really empty.

“I’m sorry honey” you tell him, wiping your face with a napkin and he shrugs.

“It’s okay, I was meant to move out sometime. Just wish it was still somewhat mine, you know? They were never there so much it sorta always felt like it did. Then when I started spending time with the kids and you there, I guess I just always imagined I’d stay there, raise my kids, teach em how to swim in the pool and how to ride their bike in the driveway. Make it more of a home then it ever was to me” Steve explains, eyes cast over the table and lost in a memory that hadn’t happened yet. Your heart instantly softens to the boy, hand reaching out to settle in his own just like you did when you first met.

“I’m sorry Stevie, but just think about how we can make those memories in our own home. A home we’ll grow old in and our kids can visit whenever and bring their kids with them” you tell him and Steve can’t help the small grin that cracks along his face at the sentiment.

“Is this you saying it’s you and I forever Rosy?” he inquires, devious eyes glimmering into your own and you laugh, cheeks flushing red.

“Well I’d say moving in together kinda deals the deal” you tell him and Steve grins before reaching over to grab your waist. Much to your surprise he lifts you effortlessly over and into his lap where his face nuzzles into your neck.

“Then it’s you and me forever, I promise” he tells you, warm breath tickling your skin. Now you both could indulge in things refined and hide your hearts from the harder times.

This marked the start of drowning your doubts in dry champagne and dreaming of your future. A future that if you dreamed hard enough could include real pearls, foreign cars, caviar and cabernet wine. Yet the real riches was a future with each other, a future that included kids and endless memories to be shared. You didn’t really care if you only ever lived in this apartment, the boy curled up next to you was the real dream.

“Another toast” you say, reaching for your mug and handing Steve his own. He follows right along, the bright red liquid sloshing up the side. This was something you wanted to say before the old versions of yourself end and the new ones begin.

“A toast to how it’s been and to all the new things we get to love. Including each other” you say and Steve happily clinks the mug against your own as you both tip back the sweet wine since Steve hated dry.

“I’ve loved these days and I’ll love the new ones too” Steve mutters into your neck and you smile and settle against him, finally relishing in the fact you were both sat in your shared living room. A space you and Steve could share while you got big wig jobs and engaged. A space designed for the both of you to grow as a couple who was meant to last forever.

“You think we’ll get tired of each other?” you voice your worries, knowing now that you shared such close quarters you were bound to find flaws within one another.

“Maybe but I’ll always love you more, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” he asks, voice a soft hum into the late night of the barren home. You had a lot of work ahead of you but at this very moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I guess so” you smile, a softness twisting in your gut at how in love you are with this man beside you.

“Wait! I have an idea!” Steve suddenly says, sliding you delicately off his lap and to the ground. He’s up in a second, eyeing the labels of each of the boxes in search of something you’re not sure of. You watch with curiosity, waiting to see what the boy could possibly be up to now.

“Ah-ha!” he lets out once he finds what his looking for, large hands pulling back the folded cardboard pieces and digging inside. It’s when the familiar flash of silver is revealed you realize he’s in search of his boombox.

Finding the outlet Steve makes work of prepping the stereo for some mood music. It’s no surprise when the familiar flash of a Billy Joel album is pulled from the bottom of the box. He grumbled only slightly when he realized he needs to rewind the tape, smashing the button with an annoyed scowl. Yet when the tape finally spins back to the beginning, a grin covers his lips instead, as a familiar song starts to fill the room. Say Goodbye to Hollywood, the classic beginning of Billy’s 1976 album Turnstiles. A true testament to his talent, and one of Steve’s favorites.

“Dance with me?” he asks, hand held down to you on the ground and you don’t even hesitate to clasp your own with his, allowing him to lift you up and into his arms before spinning you around the room.

“Tell me something good?” you ask him, heart thumping softly against his own as you both sway around the living room, the barren walls soon to hold a lifetime of memories.

“The first time I heard this song I was spending the night at my Grandparents. I was nine and we were all in the kitchen making cookies. I remember my Grandma smelling like fresh flowers and the way my Grandpas laugh made you feel safe. Turnstiles had just come out, Billy’s latest album and Grandpa knew I hadn’t heard it yet. So he played the vinyl while I frosted cookies and this song began to play. Now every time I hear it I’m back in that kitchen just happy to have two people who really loved me” Steve says, a soft sadness cast over his eyes and you can’t stop yourself from pulling him close and leaving a soft kiss on his lips.

“I really would’ve liked to meet them” you whisper, hand curling at the back of his neck and fingers grazing the small tufts of hair there. He smiles and gives a soft squeeze to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“They would’ve loved you. My Grandpa would point out how smart you are, tease me about it too. Ask how I got a girl like you to date a doofus like me. And my Grandma, she would bake you pies and insist on sewing all your clothes when they got old and worn. Talk about how much she wished she had a granddaughter” Steve says like he knows and it’s because he does. They were the two people in his life who always made him feel safe and he knew them better than anyone. It sucked they weren’t here but knowing how much they would’ve loved you is comfort enough.

“I see them in you. In the way you take care of the kids and in the way you love me” you say and the look he gives you is different than any look you have ever received. Your heart accelerates just at the sight and before you can even process it the boy is kissing you like his life depends on it.

“I’m going to love these days too” he suddenly says, pulling back from the kiss a little breathless. A small laugh escapes your lips as he hugs you close.

“Yeah, well I count on having many of them”

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila @ellharrington @avobabe87

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[happypedrohours]

Good morning, fellow Happy Pedro Hours partakers! We hope you had a great night and we're looking forward to the next one aka tonight, June 22nd!

The first pit stop after a night of fun with friends is definitely some hot drink to wake up and face the day, so we asked some of our writer friends what they think Pedro Boys would drink and they came up with some brilliant ideas that you will find under the cut.

Jack has neat black coffee because he doesn't see why you should add anything else. Except whiskey, of course.

Shane doesn't like coffee but he's been known to sneak a white mocha frappucino when nobody is watching.

Javi G, being very European, would do a cappucino in the morning but if he wakes up later in the day, he'd switch to an espresso with a bit of sugar in it.

Or Javi G would drink a cortado.

Pietro Alvarez will do a double espresso with almost an equal ratio of sugar.

Maxwell Lord skips the coffee because he's already way too wound up on a regular day, so maybe he'd go for a decaf or just some tea.

Marcus Moreno doesn't drink too much coffee in a day because it doesn't always agree with his stomach. He'll have a plain cup in the morning at time, but if he stops at a coffee house, he'll try a cappucino because Missy always raves about it.

Tim will drink black at the police station because the coffee isn't any good so leyt's not even consider that powdery creamer, but if he orders at a coffee shop, he'll sometimes go for some cream in it.

Joel Miller (pre-outbreak) drinks Folgers because it was on sale. He adds his cream and 2-4 spoons of sugar (depending of it he had to bail Tommy out of jail or back him up in a fight or threaten to fight a kid because they gave Sarah a weird look). Joel is that dad, we love him for it.

Joel Miller (post-oubreak) drinks any coffee he can find, even beans are welcome. He stays awake and doesn't have to deal with his nightmares.

Or Joel would drink weak American coffee in like a tub

Din might drink caf if Grogu has kept him up when he was trying to sleep while the ship was in hyperdrive, otherwise he sticks to water. Very practical.

Dave York is a man who "closes deals" so to speak. He has some fancy Italian blend that he tells his secretary to get him and he hides it from Carol and the kids because he wants to be the only one who has it. Also too expensive to share.

Or Dave York is a coffee snob, interested in different roasts and beans.

Ezra is happy to have anything that will keep him awake so he can keep an eye on his pod. Taste doesn't matter. If he's ever able to relax, he might like some caramel. It's not too fancy but not too basiceither.

Frankie drinks Lifer juice (black coffee). Dark roast, though, he needs to be wide awake. Benny was making taco jokes all night and he dozed on the couch and has a crick in his neck. We're taking volunteer applications to give him a massage.

Strong coffee for Frankie, I can actually see him going for like a triple or quadrupple espresso when given the chance.

Or Frankie takes his coffee just black and strong.

Oberyn would go for some tea or herbal infusion instead.

Dieter drinks any and every sweet thing you can put in six shots of expresso to keep him awake and with a grin for this next scene with the actor he left with one of his monogrammed butt plugs up their ass and did not call the next day.

Or Dieter drinks "extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have them."

Lucien has Cuban coffee with his cigarette in the morning and the afternoon.

Javier Pena drinks it black with a spoon of sugar or two because the Senora says he needs some sweet. He's a sucker for pleasing ladies, old and young.

Or Javi P obviously drinks Colombian coffee.

Thanks to @avastrasposts, @nerdieforpedro, @lady-bess, @for-a-longlongtime for their thoughts!

Do you have other coffee order headcanons for Pedro Boys? If so, we'd love to hear them! Drop us a comment to share them!

[familyvideostevie]

october first

day one: steve harrington after the events of august, steve and bee girl (you) wake up in your new house | no good at waiting one-shot, fluff | 1.1k

You wake up with a shiver. The morning sun bathes one wall of your bedroom in pink light. Your sheer curtains flutter in the wind and you snuggle deeper into your bed, tugging on the covers.

“Hey!” someone next to you grumbles. “S’cold in here, give it back.”

Steve tugs on the duvet but you don’t relinquish your hold, instead rolling with it until you’re pressed against his back.

“I know,” you mumble, eyes fluttering. Your bedroom isn’t really decorated yet but you’ve got the basics. Mattress, bed frame, dresser. Mismatched bedside tables you found at an antique sale two towns over and a rug Joyce gave you from the Byers garage. The rest of the house is coming together slowly. You have yet to get a dining table but you do have a couch and lots of kitchen utensils. Bob gave you an old bookshelf and the kids pooled money together to buy you a welcome mat. The good people of Hawkins have treated you and Steve moving into the little farmhouse as an invitation to get rid of all of their junk.

You love it.

Steve groans and shifts, releasing the duvet and turning so that he’s facing you, nose to nose. You can barely see the eyes you love so much through his lashes. “Morning,” he says. “We’re going to have to buy more blankets if you’re going to steal them every morning.”

“You’re the one who left the window open last night,” you remind him. He scoots even closer to you and shoves his face into your neck.

“Because you like fall air,” he says. His lips are warm on your skin. “Never say I don’t do anything for you.”

Living with Steve is pretty much a dream. Even when he leaves his shoes in the way, even when he doesn’t clean his toothpaste from the sink. Even when you forget to do the dishes or don’t put your laundry away. It’s fun. It’s like every day is a dream come true.

“No one says that,” you laugh. You twine your fingers in his hair. “Especially not me.”

Steve makes a pleased sound. “What are we doing today?” he asks. The last two months have been nonstop. Finishing the house, finding furniture, moving out of Bob’s for you and the farm loft for him. You haven’t had time for a proper housewarming yet.

“Nothing,” you say. He pulls back to look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, running the pad of his finger over your top lip. “Finally a day off we don’t have to spend running around town.”

“We have to go see about that table tomorrow, though. After work.”

Steve flops back on his pillow. “It never ends,” he says.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, duh.” He raises his arms above his head and stretches. “We need a table so we can play beer pong at our housewarming.”

“And so we can eat at it, Steve.”

He smirks. “Oh, yeah. That too. And so we can do all sorts of nasty things on it—”

You place your hand over his mouth. “That’s enough from you, Harrington.” He licks your palm but you don’t pull it away. “Behave.”

His expression morphs into what you think he thinks are puppy dog eyes but really he just looks like he ate something sour unexpectedly. He mumbles against your hand and you remove it. “Christ, honey,” he says. “I was gonna suffocate.”

“What a way to go,” you deadpan. He laughs and turns away from you, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and stretching again. You admire the freckled expanse of his bare back.

“You hungry?” he asks. “We could do pancakes.” He stands and wanders to the closet where he pulls out two sweatshirts. One he throws to you and the other he drags over his head.

“When we get a dog are you going to make it breakfast, too?”

Steve’s head pops out of the hoodie — one of yours, you’re pretty sure — and scoffs. “You think you’re funny with this dog-dad shit,” he says. “You watch. I’m going to be so normal. Nothing like Dustin’s mom and their cat. Nothing.”

“Sure, Steve,” you coo. You sit up in bed and pull on your own sweatshirt, borderline giddy with the sheer serenity of the morning.

Here you are, in your home with the person you love most in the world, talking about getting a dog.

This time last year you weren’t even friends yet. You remind him.

Steve snorts and crosses his arms, leaning on the dresser. “I was half in love with you already.”

“Was not,” you gasp. “We’d only been mean to each other!” You hadn’t really liked Steve until you both sat soaking wet in your car. You’d been curious about him before that. Interested. A little obsessed. But it warms you from head to toe to know you’d had him captivated from moment one.

He grins his most boyish grin, the one he usually sends you before he’s about to do something that will make your face hot. “Exactly. I had a dream about you the first day we met.”

“Really?”

He nods and rubs the back of his neck like he’s suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think I told anyone, though.”

“What was it about?”

Yeah, he’s totally blushing. “Uh.” he says. “It wasn’t anything big. Just you buying apples from me, I think.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. You laugh so hard your stomach aches. “Oh my god, Steve,” you gasp. “I told you to fuck off and you had a dream about me.” You’ve almost been together a whole year and he still surprises you. You hope it’s going to be like this for the rest of your lives.

He’s scowling. “Yeah, whatever.” Even as he grumbles he makes his way back to the bed and sits on the edge of it. He puts his hand on your leg through the duvet and squeezes gently. “Okay, funny girl, do you want apples or chocolate chips?”

“I’ll help,” you say. “Both, obviously.”

“But first…” Steve says, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut and he pauses a breath away from your lips. “Your breath stinks,” he whispers.

“Speak for yourself,” you whisper back. He snickers and then leans in, hand framing your face. His lips are a little chapped but his kiss is as sweet as always, tender and loving. He kisses you once, twice, then trails his lips along your cheek.

“Morning,” he says, as if you’d just woken up. “Love you, bee girl.”

You sigh with happiness. “Love you back.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[beenbaanbuun]

I have no idea whether I'm asking about your canon or the unhinged madness in our DMs, but what would you say addams! Matz does for money? Like we've established that they're RICH rich but is it old money? Do they have coffers so overstuffed they probably won't have to worry about it the next few centuries? Black market trade? A law firm? I'm actually so curious about this LMAO

~lyra

oh they are RICH rich, not that they ever like to brag about it. they might have money but they’re actually very humble people underneath it all. if we overlook the huge victorian mansion, their humongous closet filled with clothes and their massive collection of antiquities and oddities, they’re just your average run of the mill family with a few (very successful) family businesses under their belt.

the first one is a antiques business. it’s no secret that rich people love owning one of a kind things, and it just so happens that through a family connection, hongjoong is able to get his hands on a lot of them. ancient treasures from athens and rome, stunning jewellery from historic kind and queens, even a few weapons that were used in famous wars and executions; hongjoong sells them all. of course, seonghwa and his dove get first pick. anything that either of you want is yours, no matter how much profit he’s sure it would bring at auction.

the second business is one of seonghwa’s own creation. the growing and selling of rare species of plant. he loves roses, first and foremost; they remind him of you, so delicate and sweet smelling. in fact, over recent months he’s found himself wanting to grow and sell more and more pink variants, as a pose to the red and black he usually goes for. he’s even bred a new variant which he so fondly named ‘lamb’. he doesn’t sell those ones though, choosing instead to decorate the house with the pastel flowers. they don’t quite match the decor, but he finds they look quite beautiful.

the third and final business is a jewellery business. hongjoong designs them and seonghwa models them; they’re a match made in heaven. most pieces have ruby or jet inclusions, but their most recent creation was a silver choker with a pink sapphire flower encrusted in the front. it sits in a display case in their wardrobe, the pair having yet to put it up for sale. it just doesn’t look right with seonghwa modelling it; perhaps hongjoong would have to request your assistance instead.

[munchcorner]

Tokoyami has always admired Hawks' generosity. He thought maybe it was natural for him since he was a hero, but after seeing him donate more than half of his earnings, Tokoyami began to wonder what made him so generous.

“Where are we going?” Tokoyami asked as he trailed behind Hawks.

“To an orphanage. It’s where I used to spend my free time,” Hawks answers. Tokoyami nods and looks at the boxes behind them.

“I can help you carry them,” Tokoyami offers, but Hawks shakes his head, “my feathers are enough to lift them. Besides, you’ll need your hands when we arrive.”

A fond smile graced Hawks’ lips as he spoke. Tokoyami didn’t understand the meaning of Hawks’ words until they arrived.

The children rushed toward them after the adoption counselor announced their arrival. They flocked toward Hawks.

“Hey, now,” Hawks says, “gather yourselves. I have someone I want to introduce.”

Tokoyami silently walks towards Hawks and stands beside him.

“This is my intern, Tokoyami. Be kind to him, okay?” Hawks says. The children nodded and collectively began to ask him questions.

“What quirk do you have?”

“How old are you?”

“Can you show us your quirk?”

Those were some questions the children asked. Tokoyami looks at Hawks, silently asking if he could. Hawks give him a slight nod and lift both his fists to show encouragement. Tokoyami sighs and entertains the children while Hawks talk to the people in charge.

They spent the day playing with the children. That day, Tokoyami saw a different side of Hawks. For once, he saw his mentor act his age. He’s used to seeing Hawks be mature, responsible, and solemn. But in the closed space of an orphanage on the far side of the country, he witnessed Hawks being playful and childish, most importantly, happy.

The smile plastered on Hawks’ face that day was far more genuine than the one he constantly wore when working. Tokoyami considers it an honor to see Hawks smiling that brightly. He captures the smile and records the laughter to keep in his heart and memory.

“You seem happy today,” Tokoyami says on their way to Fukuoka.

“I’m always happy,” Hawks smiles at him.

Tokoyami opens his mouth to retort to the statement but decides against it. Instead, he asks, “why do you give the orphanage more than they need? You don’t even have enough furniture in your apartment.”

Hawks hums, “what do you want to hear? The truth? Or a lie?”

Tokoyami rolls his eyes, “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. The truth, of course.”

“But I don’t want you to pity me,” Hawks playfully says as he wraps his arm around Tokoyami’s shoulder. He pulls Tokoyami inside a restaurant and orders them a meal.

“I won’t. I promise,” Tokoyami says, making Hawks shake his head, “don’t make promises without even hearing the details. That’s a bad habit.”

“I need your answer to my question, not a lecture.”

Hawks grabs his chest in faux pain, “I didn’t know you could be this harsh to your mentor.”

“Stop stalling,” Tokoyami says, impatient.

Hawks chuckles, “I guess there’s no escaping this conversation,” he whispers and takes a sip of water.

“Well, I grew up in poverty. It was a luxury for me to get proper nutrition, much less a toy.” Hawks start. He glances at Tokoyami, gauging his reaction before continuing, “I remember my mother getting beat for buying me an Endeavor plushie on sale. It wasn’t much, but my mother still suffered the consequences of fulfilling my wants.”

Tokoyami fists his hands, ‘what a horrible father,’ he thinks.

“I grew up in a run-down house. The rain would seep through the roof, and I’d have to find a way to collect them. It was a poor attempt at stopping the house from flooding, but no matter how much effort I put in, it still flooded.” A sad smile appears on Hawks’ lips as he recounts his childhood, “At winter, I’d bear the cold. I only had a few pieces of thin clothing, so I had to find a way to keep warm. I’d curl in a corner and imagine a warm fireplace. If lucky, I’ll collect dry leaves and sticks, then light them on fire.”

Hawks chuckles as he remembers his struggle with lighting a fire. But the look on Tokoyami’s face makes him stop, “do you want me to continue?”

Tokoyami shook his head. He couldn’t handle hearing the stories Hawks shared. It was both painful, pitying, and infuriating.

“This is why I told you not to promise me anything before,” Hawks says. He pats Tokoyami’s head. “You’re horrible at hiding your emotions, you know?” 

Tokoyami looks away, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Hawks says.

Silence envelops them as Tokoyami takes in Hawks’ story. The food arrived, and they quietly ate until Hawks broke the silence.

“I give everything I have to that orphanage because they remind me of my younger self. Those children came from poverty and abuse. Since they’re far from the city, they don’t receive much funding.” Hawks says. Tokoyami remains silent as he lets Hawks talk. “Do you know what kept me going when I was young?”

Tokoyami shook his head, “what?”

“The Endeavor plushie. It was my light of hope, and I wanted to be that to those children. The first time I went there, their eyes seemed dead and hopeless. I didn’t like seeing that. That’s when I decided to do my best to support them.” Hawks says and proudly smiles as he continues. “Now, did you see how bright their eyes were?”

Tokoyami nodded with a smile, “they were the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.”

“Even the smallest action can bring the biggest changes,” Hawks says, “the money I spent on that orphanage is small considered to the joy they bring. The money, I can earn it again, but who knows what would have happened if I didn’t support them.”

Tokoyami’s smile grows brighter, “I’m glad I’m under your wing,” he whispers shyly.

Hawks laughs, “why are you suddenly shy?”

“I’ll make sure to continue what you started,” Tokoyami says, “I want to be other people’s hope too.”

The determination warms Hawks’ heart, “I can’t wait to see what kind of hero you’ll be in the future.” He then teases Tokoyami to lighten the mood before flying him home.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Outsiders Prompt Fic 4- I'm tired of this

This one is for @crow222 who wanted prompt 9 for Darry Curtis

**************

Darry was starting to get annoyed.

The reno itself was going well. They’d made more progress than he thought possible after only three days of work, especially considering this was the gang converting the Matthews’ tiny garage into a room for Two’s grandmother instead of his regular work crew on a job. As it was, Soda was doing the trim while Johnny worked behind him punching nails so they could start puttying later this afternoon. Steve and Pony were working in tandem building window boxes and framing, getting along better than Darry thought possible. They were a well oiled machine, Steve calling out measurements to Pony who then marked and cut the boards, before holding them while Steve nailed them in place. He was almost afraid to talk to either of them for fear of breaking their tenuous peace. 

He himself was working on assembling the cabinets Mrs.Matthews had bought at a rummage sale in the nice part of town a few weeks ago. The plan for her mother to move into their house had come after lots of discussion, but the trust was the old lady’s health was failing and Mrs. Matthews couldn’t afford to put her in a home, not when her nursing shifts barely covered rent and food for herself, Two-bit, and Susie. When she’d explained this to him, wringing her hands and saying she could barely afford the materials let alone a contracting team, Darry had rallied the gang and agreed to build it for her. Mrs. Matthews had always been good to them, had often looked after them when they were sick and couldn’t afford to go to a real hospital, and she’d been one of his mother’s best friends. 

She’d been real good to them too, for all she couldn’t afford to pay them. She and Susie had made dinner every night the past three days- no small feat for a group of hungry, hard working teenage boys.

And all the while, while he sanded, while Johnny hammered, while Soda glued, and Pony measured, and Steve sawed, while Mrs. Matthew’s and Susie cooked, Two-bit lollygagged.

While Steve and Soda had been painting the walls, Two had cracked a beer and heckled them. When Pony and Johnny were putting in the floor he’d haphazardly hammered on the section he’d been assigned, leaving the younger two to pick up the slack. When he’d been sanding the doorways, Two had been nowhere to be found.

Even Dally, who’d only been around until noon on monday since he was working the rodeo the rest of the week, had done more to help than Two-bit had, and Darry was starting to get sick of it.

They were none of them strangers to hard work. He, Pony, and Soda had been raised helping Dad with his carpentry business, and Steve’s old man had taught him engines practically since he could walk. Johnny had worked odd jobs since he was six, since feeding himself was a burden he often had no choice to take on. Besides, living in the east side meant that if things broke you either needed to work to figure out how to fix them yourself or work even longer hours to hire someone to do it for you if you couldn’t. Keeping a house was no joke either- Darry had never realized how hard staying on top of cooking and groceries and laundry and cleaning was until he was left to handle it by himself. It was a lot to organize and a lot to keep track of. 

So yeah, they all worked hard. Which is why it was all the more aggravating that Two-bit refused to. 

He’s always been lazy- this wasn’t news. Even when he was in second grade and Two-bit in first, the guy had been loudmouthed and too unbothered to do any of his worksheets. It had driven Darry crazy back then. It still drove him crazy now.

Currently Two-bit was lounging around, leaning against the wall and jabbering to Soda without even once offering to help. 

“I’m tired of this,” he stormed over, sure he looked a storm and not caring in the slightest, “Keith Matthews you better start working properly right this instance!”

Two-bit raised an eyebrow. “Geez Dar, chill out, I’m just takin’ a break.”

“You’ve had three whole days of breaks!” He thundered, “For shame Two-bit, your fifteen year old sister’s been workin’ harder than you! My own kid brothers and your other friends are workin’ to build this place, for free, for your grandma, the least you can do is help out!”

He turned on his heel and stomped away, sure than if he stayed a second longer he’d start swinging.

Going back to the cabinets he pretended not to hear the shocked silence followed by careful joking, the tension only dissipating once Susie brought them lemonade, and Johnny started teasing Ponyboy about how she wouldn’t quit checking him out as soon as she was back inside.

The next time Darry looks over, Two-bit is helping Soda with the framing. He doesn’t stop working for the rest of the day.

[moorishflower]

Fawney Rig Estate Sale

Fawney Rig Estate Sale, the flyer says, and Hob doesn't know who placed it, or why they chose the Inn as its final housing, but when Dream sees it, the grainy jpeg of some massive gothic monstrosity of a manse bracketed by the words FURNITURE - BOOKS - COLLECTIBLES, his expression becomes distant, and his hand spasms on the bartop. He's gotten fairly good at reading Dream's moods over the past few months, and this one, he thinks, is a doozy. This one is almost like fear.

There's two things that Dream fears, at least that he's seen fit to tell Hob: one, in the darkling hours of the morning, the both of them twined together, Hob pulling the duvet over Dream's thin shoulders and gathering him close, Dream whispering, do not go far from me, Hob Gadling, and that's its own sort of fear, one that Hob understands. He feels it, too.

The other, more insidious, he's seen only rarely. When light catches on a curve of glass just so; when someone speaks in a very specific register and tone; when the night is too quiet, and too slow, and Dream's fingers begin to scratch lines into the tabletops for want of something to occupy him. Dream has told him, in fits and starts, of a hundred years trapped within a glass sphere. He's never mentioned names, but now, in the way that he looks at this flyer, which Hob wants to rip from the wall and shred into a hundred pieces, he doesn't need to.

"How much of it was left?" he asks that night, and Dream tucks his head against Hob's chest, and says nothing. Hob touches his hair, his shoulders, the dear, thin line of his back, thumbing down the rungs of his spine in slow and gentle strokes. "Right. I've got a sledgehammer somewhere. Matty has a forge he made himself, I'm sure he's got something that can cut metal. Everything else we can have shipped out and we'll dump it into the sea."

I do not know if I can accompany you, Dream tells him, and Hob says, That's fine, love. Whatever you need to do. But there's not a chance in Hell that he's letting this opportunity slip by. It's become as much about his own peace of mind as Dream's -- he wants to see the thing that trapped his lover for a more than a century. Wants to see the glass and the iron, the struts and bolts, rendered down into molten slag. All these years and he's thought his great nemesis was his own selfishness, his own attempt to grasp the uncatchable, and yet Dream has said I would have come to you, if I were able, and Hob now realizes the truth: a few tons of scrap iron and lightning-struck sand were the only things that stood between him and Dream, for a hundred and thirty-three years. And he had never known.

It hurts. It hurts in a way that beggars the soul, and out of the centuries of his past he drags up a brigand's easy violence as he dumps petrol into the car. As he drives to Fawney Rig.

It's every bit as tasteless and huge as the picture implied it to be, and the man who opens the door to Hob is older, bent-backed, something soft and yielding about the shape of his shoulders. He takes in the sight of Hob on his doorstep, dirt-grimed burlap sack over one shoulder, the sledgehammer leaning like a loyal dog against the wall.

"Can I help you?"

"Hope so." He drops the bag. It makes a satisfying clanking noise. "Are you Paul McGuire? Put up a load of flyers for an estate sale?"

"I...yes. That's me. The sale isn't for another two weeks. I'm afraid you're rather early." There's something conciliatory about the way he talks. Some sharp and cavernous thing in him senses it, the way that owls can sense the shape of mice in tall grass. He longs for the feel of a good dagger in his hand. It's been a long time since he killed anyone, but he wants, and he recognizes that this is not good, he wants this gutless old man to put up a fight.

This man has never been bloodied nor bled another creature in his life. He'd make a fine target for a bandit, but for Hob's purposes, he's unsatisfying. He kicks the bag, instead.

"I'm not the mercenary I used to be," he says. "Better for you. There's about. Hm. A bit more than a kilo of gold bullion in that bag. It's old, but any jeweler will tell you it's pure. It's yours if you leave. Now."

"I don't. I don't understand."

"No," Hob says, unkindly. "You don't. Which is why I'm giving you this chance to leave. He said you were the one who let him out. Eventually. After a hundred and thirty-three years."

The man's face goes pale as clotted cream. He looks at the sledgehammer with new fear. He remembers this feeling, the intimacy of a knife held to the throat of one who deserves it. It's not one he anticipated dredging up, not once highway robbery went out of style, but it comes back to him as easy as riding a bicycle. Perhaps he should be worried about that.

He'll worry later. Paul McGuire is nodding slowly, looking ill, looking lost. "Is he here?" he asks, and Hob snorts.

"If he was," he says, "I wouldn't tell you."

And that, as they say, is that. Hob is left standing in the entry hall of Fawney Rig, the fading splendor of it, all its gothic twists and its vaguely occult symbolism wended through with high-quality electric lights and a security system to make the Queen weep. Paul hasn't left him a key. By the end of the night, he doesn't intend to need one anymore.

It makes as much sense to start from the ground up as anything else, and finding the stairs to the basement is easy. The hammer is a comfortable heft over his shoulder, and it's as he starts down into that long and sightless tunnel that he feels the shape take just behind him.

"Hello, love," he says, and Dream reaches out. Hob takes his hand, as easy as breathing. "You doing all right?"

"It looks different. From this direction."

"I imagine it would. You aren't alone this time, though." He squeezes the hand in his. It's like trying to squeeze a stone, cold and implacable. "And we're leaving here together."

"Hm." But the hand relaxes, in minute increments. He can feel Dream behind him, can feel the outline of his shoulders, can see the vague eyeshine cast upon the wall, but he doesn't look back. Hob's read that story before. He'll look back when the job is finished. When they leave Hell together.

"Let's finish what you started," he says, as they reach the bottom of the stairs. The ruin of the glass sphere sits in awful majesty in the center of a narrow moat; even from here, he can see the lines of yellow paint, the runes that bound Dream into an airless, feelingless void. The iron struts are lined with spikes; Hob wishes, abruptly, hotly, that he had only given Paul McGuire to the count of ten to leave. He hasn't any horse to ride him down, but he wouldn't have needed one anyways. An old man, and he with rage giving him winged feet.

"Right," he says, and let's go of Dream's hand, only long enough to heft the hammer properly. "Let's get started, darling. I'd like to be home in time to make you dinner."

He doesn't look back (he'll look back, he thinks, when he has reduced this poxy sphere to dust, when he has ground the iron into filings, when there is nothing left of this cursed mausoleum but concrete dust and burnt pages), but he feels the shape of Dream behind him. Can hear his smile.

It sounds like breaking glass. There's no music sweeter, Hob thinks, and lets the hammer fly.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CHRISTMAS TREE WALTZ

pairing: taissa x van x reader

word count: 907

notes: not proof read. also no one can tell me van's spiked peppermint hot chocolate wouldn't taste bomb as fuck

summary: putting up the christmas tree with taivan :) au where taissa and simone divorced and have shared custody of sammy

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have used my tree.”

“You’ve had the same artificial tree since the 90s, Van. God knows what’s living in it, it’s horrible.”

“It’s vintage,” she huffed, and connected another branch to the artificial tree you and Taissa had bought yesterday. “This new one smells like a department store.”

“Your old one smells like rats.”

“I second that,” Taissa said, coming into the living room. “I can’t even look at it down in the basement or I start to feel sick.”

You smiled, watching Van struggle to put the last few branches onto the tree. You turned to Taissa, who sat on the sofa a few feet away with a box in her arms.

“Ornaments?” you asked, and she nodded.

“And lights. I thought we could use some new ones, and they were on sale for almost nothing.”

“Finally, this fucker’s all put together,” Van grumbled, stepping away from the tree. It was huge, larger than you needed, but since the three of you had gotten a new house together with the money Taissa had gained from being elected, you’d gone all out this year. “I’ll be right back – I don't know about you two, but after all that I need a drink.”

You laughed, shaking your head and going to sit by Taissa on the sofa. She put the box of lights and ornaments down on the floor and pulled you into her arms. You straddled her lap, wrapping your arms around her, and she pulled you impossibly closer. Even in the warmth of your new house there was a lingering winter chill, though the heat was turned up and a fire was roaring in the fireplace a few feet away.

Van came back a few minutes later with three mugs, handing one to you and one to Taissa. You looked down into it – it looked like regular hot chocolate, but the smell of peppermint and something sharper put you off a bit.

“Just taste it,” Van encouraged, and you could see her pride in her concoction. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

A bit hesitant, you took a sip, instantly tasting the chocolate spiked with what seemed to be peppermint vodka. You knew it was your new addiction, and as Van watched you take another sip, she smirked.

“Good, right?”

Taissa looked at both of you in disgust. “That smells horrible, I can’t believe either of you are drinking that.”

“Want me to go get you a beer instead?”

“No, I’m alright without anything. One of us has to stay sober, or we’ll never get the star on the tree.”

“You won’t get it on, anyway. You’re too clumsy.”

Taissa shrugged, agreeing. “We’ll have to wait for Sammy. Simone’s dropping him off tomorrow.”

“He’ll love the tree,” you said. “Don’t let me forget, I got him a Batman ornament to put up when he gets here.”

Her embrace tightened slightly. You and Van had developed a tight bond with her son, and you knew it meant the world to Taissa.

You jumped when Van threw some tinsel at the two of you. “This is very sweet and all, but are you two going to help me? I’ve been slaving over this tree for hours.”

You chuckled, standing and throwing the tinsel back. “It’s been 15 minutes!”

“My effort is the equivalent of 5 hours worth of work.”

Taissa rolled her eyes, smiling and picking up some lights from the ornament box. The three of you worked them around the tree, and after a few minutes the room was illuminated with the warm glow of the lights. It was gorgeous, so cozy, and you had never felt more at home than by the fire surrounded by the loving banter of your girlfriends deciding which Christmas ornament should go where on the tree.

After a moment you heard one of Van’s old record players turn on, and Christmas music began to play. The first song was your favorite, and as the opening instrumentals began to play, you were euphoric.

Van held out a hand to you, smiling softly. “Come on, dance with me?”

You took her hand, setting your spiked hot chocolate down on the coffee table. The two of you moved to the living room, swaying to the music, Van occasionally twirling you teasingly.

You rested your head on her shoulder as you danced, relaxed. You looked past her and watched Taissa contentedly putting the rest of the ornaments on the tree. It was perfect, the life the three of you had, that you had found Taissa and Van after everything that had happened to them. You were the missing piece to everything.

You shivered slightly, cold coming over you as the fire dimmed in the fireplace. Van pulled you closer, and eventually the two of you sat together on the sofa, sharing a red flannel blanket.

Done with the ornaments, Taissa joined you. She sat on your other side, planting a quick kiss to your cheek and pulled you to rest your head in the crook of her neck. From the comfort of it all you were half asleep, but your gaze rested on the Christmas tree and even in the haze of the booze mixed with your own drowsiness, happiness overcame you. The holidays were never more perfect than they were spent in the arms of your girlfriends, and you knew it would be that way for years to come.

[bomberqueen17]

farm life

Am at the farm. Just gonna witter on uninterestingly about that behind the cut because I"m too tired to be interesting.

Initially we were going to make chicken sausage this week but BIL decided not to, but then when I said I was coming anyway, he decided to cut up some chickens.

In past years they've always sold out of chicken parts way before they've sold out of whole chickens. But a couple of years ago a chef friend told him there was nothing really wrong with thawing a chicken, cutting it up, and refreezing the parts, and initially we were just thawing whole chickens to cut up to grind into sausage, but we did some tests and determined that actually, no, there's really no discernible loss of quality in the parts. So now we don't sell out of chicken breasts in December anymore, but can keep bringing them to market all winter.

So this year we took the whole chickens out of the store, stopped bringing them to market, and are *only* selling the parts, and are saving the whole chickens to thaw and cut up and refreeze as parts. It's working great. It's more work, but it's more profit, and also more sales. People just don't buy whole chickens that much.

So anyway we cut up 88 chickens, and saved like 60 of the carcasses into a pair of huge stock pots. Packaged all the parts up, labeled and weighed them, then put the stock pots on to boil. Today we packaged 89 quarts of chicken stock. I was going to deep-clean the commercial kitchen, but it's not ready for the full spring treatment: we're still washing eggs in there, which means baskets full of chicken-shitty eggs are coming in and getting set on the floor. So I just cleaned and sanitized the heck out of the stuff we were using, and also the floor drain, but have held off. In April when the temps don't go below freezing at night anymore, when the vegetable washing station can move out of the eviscerating room so the egg washing can move back in there, *then* I will haul all the big equipment out and wash the whole room from the ceiling to the walls to the floors to the back of the grinder, under the mixer, under the fridge, under the freezer, all of it is getting powerwashed within an inch of its life.

But not this trip.

Next week we're making pork sausage.

I have been taking my dose of adderall at 8am immediately before I go out to work. It's hard to judge the efficacy, actually, because I'm so busy and so rarely totally self-directed. The real test would be to have me have a day of idleness and half a dozen things I need to accomplish. But I can concretely observe that I don't get a sort of dizzy head rush when it kicks in anymore, and I don't crash around 3 or 4 pm anymore. No, instead I'm just physically exhausted at that time, but it's understandable that I would be, because despite my best efforts to work out all winter, I am in no way prepared for the amounts of heavy lifting, repetitive movements, and sheer mileage you have to walk around here.

Today I finished cleaning the kitchen and then spent a couple of hours with my trusty old pruners, helping Farmsister and Veg Man harvest pussy willows to sell at market in decorative bundles. They just chainsawed the trees off a couple inches above the ground, and then we went at them with pruners and only took the nice branches, and the rest are going through the woodchipper to be mulch. VegMan pointed out the line they'd cut back to last year: this is how you coppice willows, and you can harvest them like this every year. They were fifteen feet tall, all new growth.

Soon we'll have daffodils. Mom had too many at her house, and a couple years ago she and Dad dug up buckets and buckets of them and brought them over and we dug a trench in the hillside and tipped them in. And now they're about ready to be divided again, LOL.

We have pullet eggs too. The chickens are laying pretty well, manageable amounts. We've started packing the eggs by weight, which is a little time-consuming.

OK that's enough wittering. Have I got any photos? Hmm.

the view from the little creek down into the Quackenkill, alongside the back of the old granary. Morning, sun coming through the trees and lighting up the red-stained old siding, the neighbor's house visible at the other end of the cut.

2. A pig friend, muddy snoot questing toward the camera in the sunshine of the winter livestock barn, which has a plastic south-facing roof to let in all the light it can.

3. Farmsister, in her chainsaw chaps and safety gear, chainsawing down the pussy willows in front of the solar panels. (They measured, before they planted the little trees; they'd have to be 40 feet tall to block the light on the solar panels in any season, which I don't think a pussy willow would do, but it's still important to prune them back whether we harvest them for the catkins or not.)

That's all, happy spring. I'm so tired.

[doctorstrangereview]

Strange Tales #126

Cover Date: November 1964 On-Sale Date: August 11, 1964

It all changes here! In celebration, Doc reclaims some cover real estate and the blurb even depicts a scene from the story. What changes? Doc meets Dormammu! Up until this moment, Dormammu has simply been one of the funky names Doc calls on to put the whammy on his foes. Also, until now, most of his foes haven't been all that impressive on power level with Nightmare and Loki being the possible exceptions. And Doc doesn't call on either to power up. Dormammu is on whole other level.

Our story continues immediately after Doc's battle with Baron Mordo last issue. We see his astral body returning to his physical body. Now, Mordo's body should be in the house as well, but that never gets addressed. He must have gotten out somehow; we definitely haven't seen the last of him. No sooner than getting up from his comfy, funky chair (sadly, not the one with the dragon head), he's in the grip of a powerful spell, without his consent, that manifests itself as a floppy white and yellow bullseye. There's a nice touch from Ditko. Doc goes in the top of the bullseye and at the spell's terminus, The Ancient One's pad, he comes out the bottom. It even has a funky curl, like it's squeezing him out.

The Ancient One is dressed today in a fine frock. The original coloring is red, but the Masterworks recoloring makes it a vivid fuchsia. Once again I prefer the recoloring. Today's crown has less ostentatious horns that the last story but the detail is more intricate. The Ancient One makes a ghost thing visible to Doc just as it leaves. Doc prepares himself to jump to the old guy's defense, but he's like "Don't worry about it, he's just a messenger of the Dread Dormammu. Oh, by the way, Dormammu is gonna invade our dimension and take over. I just got back from being Mordo's captive and haven't had my old man nap yet. Can you deal with this?"

"Sure thing, daddio! Send me!" And Doc disappears into some whirling and hairy dots. Perhaps this is Ditko's answer to Kirby Crackle. The next thing Doc knows he's somewhere else, floating through a ring of smoke and heading toward a nasty beastie indeed. The smoke ring is a nice call back to the splash page!

The as-yet-unnamed nasty beasty is the G'uranthic Guardian who will show up here and again. I don't know if this is actually a living being or some magical construct that guard's Dormammu's "palace." Doc approaches the nasty beastie who looks down on him and shoots out some light that probes his brain, without his consent. It's a test of some kind that Doc passes and the cool six-sided doors open for him. He steps through, and we get get our first look at how bat-crap crazy Ditko makes this very brightly lit "dark" dimension.

That's right, the other side of this door is floating in nothing and Doc is walking along a floating ribbon all curled up. Nightmare's realm was weird, but this is drug-trippy crazy! What was Ditko on? This imagery continues throughout the story, so get yourself a copy if you want to see it all.

Next, we get our first glimpse of Dormammu. He doesn't quite look like his popular image yet. For one, he's wearing a two-tone green thing with funky shoulder accoutrements and not the purple we're used to seeing him in. His head isn't surrounded by flames, but smoke and his head is blue, instead of red. He only has a hint of eyes. He's also sitting in a funky throne. We will later learn this is the Azure Throne and it is almost never depicted as blue.

Dormammu is like "WTF? Who the hell is this? Where's The Ancient One?" One of the sychophants surrounding Dormammu isn't toadying up enough and dares to question Dormammu's ability to instantly wipe out the mortal and he instantly imprisons them until he doesn't feel like it anymore.

Meanwhile, Doc is facing a series of challenges as he moves toward the big bad. His first challenge is a little yellow creature who feeds on spells. Doc figures this out quickly and feeds him until he pops like a balloon. This is being watched by a certain silver-haired lady. Yes! We are finally introduced to the as-yet-unnamed Clea. At first he thinks this is The Ancient One returning, but realizes it can't be "for he is young -- and fair to behold!" While Clea's libido gets fired up, Doc is drawn into some object that looks like a flying magic carpet. "Oh well," thinks Clea, "better luck next time."

Doc defeats a bunch more of Dormammu's minion who appear before him. Dormie's not happy. He banishes them to limbo.

Dormammu is like "Enough of this! If you need something done, you just gotta do it yourself. Bring it on, earther!" Clea senses things are coming to a head and decides to shout about it.

The entrance Dormie conjures for Doc is just bizarre. It's like a big sheet of paper with a mini, desaturated bifrost coming out of it. Clea attempts to warn him off, but Doc proceeds to the ominous assignation. Doc finally confronts Dormie at last! "I won't kill you until the Ancient One shows up." Doc replies "Nah! You gotta deal with me." "No really, send in the Ancient One." "Nope. It's gonna be me." "You're funeral, blue dude!"

And we break here until next month. Last month was great, but this is just freaking crazy! Ditko is in top form here. Who knows how many pencils were ground to little nubs to draw these 10 pages? Visually, it's spectacular. Ditko had spent a number of stories with lazy backgrounds, but he must have been saving it up for this story. Dormammu's motivation for invading earth isn't exactly original, but it starts a great story. There isn't really anything in the way of plot holes. It doesn't mess with continuity. And it's the springboard of a new era where the villains are more powerful and the stakes are greater. I can't wait for part two!

[beansnsoup]

Can't Help Falling In Love With You

Fred Weasley x gn!halfblood!reader

*written more towards fem side

*house neutral

Summary- Slow dancing to muggle music on Valentines Day with Fred.

Warnings- fluff, cheesy romance, idk what else

You opened up the record player you brought from home the last time you went to visit your parents; your mother was a witch while your father was a muggle. The decided to raise you in the muggle world until you were of age to receive your letter to Hogwarts.

Your parents had kept all of your old vinyl's which you were very happy about, your dad said he wanted to just donate them or give them to you grandma for a yard sale, but you mom talked him out of it.

"So how does this work?" Your boyfriend asked over your shoulder,

You picked up an Elvis vinyl out of the case, skimming through the songs until you found the one you were looking for. "The vinyls are made out of a type of glass, and when it makes contact with the needle the music come out of this here speaker, to dumb it down."

He nodded, pretending to finally understand what you were telling him, you used to listen to the album all the time when you were younger, so you had all of the grooves memorized. You pressed the button for the record to start spinning then put the needle around the middle of the record.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in,"

You hold out your hand for him to grab, you pull him in the middle of the room and start swaying along with the music,

"But I can't help falling in love with you,"

He starts spreading kisses along your face, causing you to let out a small giggle, he grabs your lower back the dipping you, you thought he was going to drop you for the fun of it, but he instead pulled you back up, pulling you towards his chest.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin,"

You start to take in his cedar scent, besides from the music everything was silent, Fred and George had closed the shop up early because George had a date, and the two of you decided for a long much needed break.

"If I can't help falling in love with you?"

You held onto his shoulders, fiddling with his shirt sleeve, gazing out the window at all of the couples walking by the window while they leave Diagon Alley, most of the girls holding chocolates and teddy bears.

"Like river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes,"

Lights in the other stores began to go out, the owners walking outside to lock them, some stores, like the twins' store, had an upper level, so as each of the lights went off another set came on.

"Some things are meant to be,"

He brushes pieces of your hair behind your ear, holding his hand firmly against your head. He let go and grab one of your hands, pushing you back and spinning you around, the pushing you back once more to spin you into his chest, making you laugh out loud again.

"Take my hand, take my whole life, too,"

You took your back away from him and turned to face him, "Happy Valentines Day, love." He said to you, kissing your forehead. "Happy Valentines Day, Freddie."

"For I can't help falling in love with you."

I love Elvis

[suddenlybambi]

as long as you stay here [3] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.6k

chapter 3

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a/n - this will likely be the last daily update for now - i have 3 more chapters written so far but i like to keep on top in case i end up falling ill so i don't leave y'all without a chapter for a whole week! - next update will likely be friday (or thursday if i have a lot of motivation!)

thank you to everyone who has supported this story so far 🥰

Y/N was relieved to be back in the apartment, where it was mostly quiet. Just the sounds of the street outside the window that never closed properly could be heard. 

She grabbed the remote, deciding the TV was the most obvious thing to use to entertain her new guest. While she and Kyle had bonded over their mutual disdain for the club, she didn’t know much else about him.

She flicked the power button a few times, groaning in realisation. “Andddd… The TV is broken again!” She put the remote down on the side and tried to unplug and replug the TV in, but it didn’t help. “Clyde has been here one day, and he’s already done something to it.”

“How old is that thing?” Kyle looked in slight awe at the TV. It was one of the first models of ‘flatscreen’ TVs, but it was still three times the width of any TV for sale in stores in the present day. 

“It was Bebe’s grandma’s. It got 10 whole channels, but we managed to rig a fire tv stick up to it,” Y/N explained, trying the remote one last time. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is all we have in the way of guest entertainment. That is unless you fancy taking a look at Bebe’s gossip magazine collection that has taken over the coffee table?” 

“I’ll pass, I think?” Kyle laughed awkwardly, looking down at the selection. “As tempting as it is to find out… Which Kardashian has the most expensive nose?”

“That leaves two options that I can think of. You can crash in the spare bed in what was Wendy’s room until they return from clubbing,” She gestured down the hall to the open door to the room that had once been Wendy’s room. It now only housed a double bed and an empty dresser. “Or you can join me in my room while I watch a nature documentary, and we can do sudokus together?”

“Definitely living up to the party animal part of the party-hating party animal title.” Kyle teased, but she could tell he wasn’t genuinely making fun of her. “I mean, a nature documentary? Sudokus? What a wild night.” 

“We could watch something else if that’s too hardcore for you? Maybe do a word search or spot the difference instead?” 

“I think I can just about handle it. I’ll let you know if it is too much for me.”

“I don’t have a couch in my room. You don’t feel awkward sitting on the bed, do you?”

“What is a bed but just a longer couch?”

“Wow! I didn’t realise I was in the presence of such a magnificent philosopher!” Y/N laughed, leading the way to her room. She was glad that Kyle was open to joking around with her, as it made the fact that they would be spending the following hours together a little less awkward. 

She opened the door to her bedroom, glad she had cleaned up a little the day before since it had been a bit of a mess. There were still textbooks everywhere and about five mugs on the side that she swore she would take to the kitchen to clean, but that was about it. Her bed was even made for once. “Whales or birds?” 

“Birds,” Kyle decided after a second of consideration.

“That is absolutely the correct choice!” Y/N grinned. She jumped onto her bed, lunging over it to grab the remote control. She scooted over to the side so Kyle could sit next to her, which he did, leaving a respectful amount of space in between them. She pulled the multiple sudoku books from her bedside table drawer and laid them out on the bed, grabbing a couple of the pens she had on the side.

“You don’t actually have to do any sudokus if you don’t want to,” She clarified, picking up the one she had last been working on and flipping to the next empty one. “My phone charger is next to you if you need it.”

“Thanks, I’m on 5%,” He leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the charger and plug his phone in. “Honestly, I’d rather do a sudoku than anything else,” He admitted, picking up one of the books and flipping to the next free page. Y/N turned on the documentary about birds that she had planned to watch, and they sat in peaceful quiet. She knew she had made the right choice leaving with Kyle, and she didn’t for a single second regret suggesting that he came back to hers while the others enjoyed the rest of the night.

The buzzing of her phone in her bra startled Y/N awake. She had to blink her eyes a few times to register her surroundings. Feeling a weight on her shoulder, she turned her head to see that Kyle had fallen asleep as well, resting his head on her.

She didn’t want to wake him, so she tried to move carefully and gently to pull her phone out and check why it buzzed. She was met with a text from Bebe.

bebe 💋 : weere on way howme now b 10 mins 

bebe 💋 : wend and stan r going to stay at oirs in old room

bebe 💋 : so skyle will have to satay or get cab home allone 

Y/N could barely make out the words Bebe was typing but just about managed to translate that Wendy and Stan would be staying in Wendy’s old room, so Kyle would either have to stay over or get a cab home by himself.

She turned her head again to look at the sleeping boy on her shoulder. Would he want to go home? Where would he sleep if he stayed? She would probably let him stay like that on her shoulder all night had the impending interruption from the others coming home not been looming in the distance; he looked so peaceful. 

She checked the time, it was 1am, but she was starving.

y/n 💕 : are we getting food?

bebe 💋 : we caan order in whene home xzxzxxx

Satisfied with that answer, she set her phone down on the bed.

“Kyle?” Y/N carefully nudged her shoulder to try and wake him up in the most gentle way she could so as not to startle him. It worked as he slowly lifted his head and yawned.

“Sorry for falling asleep,” He mumbled, yawning a second time. He had the slightest red tinge on his face as he realised he had been resting against her.

“No worries, I did too,” She confessed, now yawning herself. “Bebe just texted, and there has been a change of plans. Wendy and Stan are staying in Wendy’s old room tonight, so you can either stay here or get a cab home by yourself?” She didn’t particularly like the idea of him getting a cab home alone at that time of night, particularly if he would be returning to an empty apartment.

“Where would I sleep?” He asked. She could tell he didn’t really want to go back to his apartment alone.

“The couch hurts like hell, but that’s an option, or you can just sleep in here,” She shrugged, sitting up properly as she realised the dress had ridden up in her sleep, and she was a small movement away from accidentally flashing him. She tried to casually pull it down as much as possible. “I don’t mind. We’ve already proved we can both sleep here, and you don’t seem like a creep.” 

“Thanks, neither do you… I’ll stay here,” He nodded sleepily, sitting himself up with her. “Do you know if Clyde has any clothes I can change into? These jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in. My legs feel dead.”

“I don’t know how much of his stuff Clyde has moved in yet, or where it would be,” Y/N swung her legs over the bed and stood up, stretching a little. “I probably have something; hold on.” 

“Your dress is- uh-“ Kyle stuttered a little and diverted his attention to the ceiling to avoid looking at Y/N’s exposed behind.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” She sighed, trying to pull the dress down to cover her again. “This is Bebe’s dress. I’m not used to it.”

“No worries,” He looked at her again once it was safe, watching as she crossed the room and rifled through her dresser, pulling a couple of pairs of sweatpants and a few t-shirts out.

“Take your pick,” She threw them onto the end of the bed. “My mom wanted to throw my older brother’s clothes out when he went travelling, but I just repopulated my wardrobe with them.” Kyle grabbed some at random, as did Y/N. She usually wore the hand-me-downs to sleep. “Bathroom is down the hall, and it’s the first door to the left.”

Kyle made his way to the bathroom slowly and sleepily. He got changed into the borrowed clothes that were just slightly too big on his slim frame but very comfortable. They were perfect to sleep in. Once changed, he found his way back to Y/N’s room, where she was pulling her shirt on.

“Sorry!” He diverted his eyes again, realising he’d waltzed in unannounced while she was changing.

“I accidentally flashed my whole ass at you a minute ago because of that scrap of fabric Bebe calls a dress, don’t worry about it,” Y/N laughed, grabbing a wipe to rid herself of the makeup Bebe had put on her. It had smudged a little in her sleep, the eyeliner and mascara pooling under her eyes, making her look more tired than she already felt. “They’re going to order some food in when they get here. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Kyle nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Any idea where from?”

“We always pretend to look at the options for five minutes before deciding on that burger place Kenny works for,” She explained, tying her hair back to keep it out of her face. “The fries are so greasy but so good. We’re lucky we get a friends and family discount with the amount we spend in there.”

“Kenny stops by with food from there on game nights. It’s the best,” He agreed with a small smile.

The sound of a key struggling to unlock the front door rang through the apartment before the 4 friends stumbled in.

“Whooo! Let’s keep this party going!” Clyde cheered loudly, still clutching what appeared to be a bottle of beer, spilling a bit on himself either without noticing or without caring.

“Shh!” Y/N left her room to greet them, followed closely by Kyle. “We have enough noise complaints from the neighbours as it is!”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bebe asked, looking at Y/N smugly. She didn’t seem as drunk in person as she was over text, but Bebe was great at putting on a poker face.

“My one-woman opera in the shower has had many five-star reviews,” Y/N joked. “It’s not my fault our neighbours have no taste.”

“I thought you were being murdered and almost broke the door down,” Stan seemed slightly more sober than the rest of the group but still out of it. He must not have drunk as much after they had left.

“You wouldn’t know true art if it hit you in the face!” She retorted. 

“Yes, I-” Wendy cut Stan off before he could finish what he was saying.

“Don’t!” She held him back. “You’re just asking her to slap you in the face… Again.”

“That was one time!” Y/N protested. “And he baited me into it.”

“You’re staying?” Bebe pointed at Kyle, changing the subject. He nodded in confirmation. She looked him up and down, recognising the clothes to be Y/N’s. A sly smile crossed her lips. “What have you two been up to?” The implications were clear in her voice, but Y/N decided to brush them off without even openly acknowledging them.

“We watched a nature documentary, did sudokus, and then fell asleep until you texted,” Y/N shrugged, knowing that telling the truth would be the best option. Even drunk, Bebe could spot a lie from a mile away. “Did you know that there is a bird in Papua, New Guinea that’s poisonous?”

“The Pitohui,” Kyle added. Y/N smiled at him, happy he had actually paid attention and absorbed some knowledge.

Clyde and Stan whispered something to one another, dissolving in fits of giggles at whatever it was. Y/N knew better than to engage and just ignored them. “Okay, everyone, get your food orders written down somewhere while I grab water and aspirin for you all.” 

“Thanks, Mom!” Stan said sarcastically.

“Fine, then you can suffer,” She rolled her eyes and disappeared to the bathroom to grab the aspirin. She returned to the shared kitchen living space to see that Kyle had already started to get water for everyone. “I have rehydration things somewhere around here.” She mumbled, looking through the cupboards until she found what she was looking for.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Stan pointed at the pair as they prepared the rehydration drinks and aspirin. “This is why I said they needed to meet up. They’re both totally lame.”

“Staniel, we can hear you,” Y/N sighed, grabbing a glass in either hand and passing one to Stan and one to Wendy while Kyle did the same for Bebe and Clyde. “Drink this, take these, thank us later when you only feel slightly shit in the morning instead of completely shit.”

“Have you ordered the food yet?” Clyde groaned, slouching on the sofa. “I’m so hungry.”

“You haven’t given me your orders yet,” Y/N pointed out, but Bebe waved her phone around.

“I started a group chat, and they are in there,” She announced, collapsing on top of Clyde on the couch. “It’s called best friends because that’s what we are.” Y/N sighed and made her way to her room to grab her phone, as she had left it on the bed after Bebe texted her on their way home. Kyle trailed after her, having left his own phone on charge in there.

Y/N checked her messages to see a new group chat had indeed been made and was already flooded with poorly spelt food requests. She assumed the one number she didn’t have saved was Kyle’s, so she quickly saved it under ‘kyle 📗’.

“Here, just add what you want,” She passed her phone over to Kyle after she had input everyone else’s requests. He flicked through and added what he wanted, passing it back to her with a smile.

“Mind if I stay in here while we wait for the food?” He asked, looking over at the door to make sure it was closed. “When Clyde is drunk, he’s a little….”

“Loud? Annoying? More so than usual?” Y/N suggested the descriptions. Kyle nodded a little hesitantly. “Stay in here all you like, dude. I’m staying here as well if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s your room,” He laughed a little. “You don’t have to ask if it's okay with me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the guest,” She shrugged in response, sitting down on her bed. Kyle followed suit, sitting down next to her. He was so careful in his movements, as if he was worried he was doing something wrong. If Y/N had to be honest, it was a little cute. “I’d bet $10 on Clyde passing out before the food even gets here.”

“I’ll add another $10 for Stan passing out too.”

a/n - let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah

[echo-goes-mmm]

Anniversary Present (Oneshot)

My Writing Masterpost

Warnings: slight dubcon, manipulation, minor character death, blood, past stalking

“I’m hungry,” complained Victor. 

Henry glanced at the vampire, then into his side mirror. “I’m driving.”

“So pull over.”

“I can’t,” he protested. “There’s no place to park.” They had circled the lot once already, but there were no spots. If Victor hadn’t insisted on spending the weekend at the beach of all places, this wouldn’t have happened.

“It’s a Friday evening on a holiday,” he explained. “It’ll be a while.” Victor grumbled, but at least he seemed placated. 

It had been three years since Victor ‘claimed’ him like some sort of stalker, and Henry hadn’t been able to shake him. Now he was stuck with Victor, and sometimes he could fool himself into normalcy. Like some kind of fucked-up sitcom. See the vampire and his unwilling roommate, every evening at 7pm on FOX! Or something. Henry didn’t watch cable.

“Look,” said Victor, “there’s a spot.”

“Finally,” groaned Henry. Another car came down the aisle, and he put on the turn signal and waited for them to pass so he could pull in. But instead, the BMW swerved into the spot, nearly dinging him in the process. Asshole.

Victor hissed. 

“Don’t,” Henry said. “It’s literally okay.” 

Victor sighed. “Fine.” 

Eventually, they found a spot in another lot, but there was a fee. Henry grumbled as Victor drank an evening snack from him. What a jerk, and of course it was a BMW. Brand new, too. Henry thought of his 20 year old beater and tried not to be jealous.

Whatever.

Victor had made reservations to a nice restaurant on the boardwalk for the two of them, which was hilarious. Victor could eat human food, it just did nothing for him except taste good. He was always dragging Henry to fancy places.

The perks of having a rich vampire eat off him, he supposed.

Victor disappeared after paying for dinner, with a promise to meet him at the rental later. Typical. 

But Henry had a little cash to burn, and the boardwalk was fun. He ate frozen custard (peanut butter and chocolate) and looked at ridiculously priced swimsuits on sale. He watched people come in and out of novelty stores, and got himself a box of saltwater taffy. It was nice, he thought, as a charming family went into the amusement park.

Of course, the downside to this little vacation was Victor. He was going to do something this weekend, he could feel it. 

Henry was a snack, a little amusement that Victor liked to keep under his thumb.

Henry hated when Victor dragged home a meal.

He shuddered, the warm night air suddenly suffocating. He took another bite of his frozen custard and told himself not to think about it.

He got to the rental house hours later (after somehow mixing up where he’d parked) and Victor was there as promised. 

“So,” said Victor, “there’s this cute little diner in town. We should go there for breakfast.” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Victor frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just tired.” 

“Oh. Well, the bedroom on the right is yours. Goodnight.” Suspicious.

“‘Night.” The drive was pretty draining, so Henry fell asleep quickly.

___________________

Victor dragged him to the diner around nine. He looked a little funny dressed in pants and a hoodie in this weather, but it was sunny out and, well, vampire.

Henry woke up in a much better mood than yesterday. He ordered a short stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of sausage and it was divine.

Victor bid him a good day after breakfast and went to sleep. Henry took the opportunity to spend the rest of the day at the beach. It was a great weather out, and he swam in the ocean a couple times before making it back to the rental. He even splurged and got some barbeque from a place on the boardwalk for lunch.

But soon the sun would be down, and Victor would be hungry. He headed back to the rental house.

After the feeding, he was more worn out than usual. He hadn’t been on a vacation in a while, and he’d forgotten how tiring it was to relax. He went to sleep soon after.

___________________

“Henry. Hey, Henry!” Victor whispered. He groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“What?” Victor’s red eyes glowed down at him. Victor flashed him a toothy grin. He glanced at the clock. Midnight. And why could he smell pizza?

“I got you a present.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just come see!” Henry stumbled into the living room and flipped the switch.

“Oh my god!”

A guy was tied up and gagged in the middle of the floor. Pizza boxes sat on the table, with a bunch of booze and soda. The man made a frantic sound from behind the gag.

“What the fuck?” he said. Victor flopped on the couch. He titled his head and grinned.

“It’s the man who cut you off earlier. And I also got dinner and that novelty soda you like. The one that tastes like sour candy.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Fuck. Again? Victor had never been caught before, but this was insane. 

Why was his life like this? Ugh. Whatever.

He crossed the room and took a slice of pizza. It was amazingly good, actually. It really was true that the best New York style pizza was in New Jersey. He ignored Mr. BMW struggling against the ropes.

He twisted off the cap to the soda and some vodka. He was gonna need it. Henry turned back to the scene to see Victor teasing Mr. BMW. Muffled shouts came from behind the gag.

Henry knew how scary it was, seeing a vampire for the first time. But he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. It was normal, now.

“I think he wants to say something,” grinned Victor. He plucked the gag from Mr. BMW.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he said, looking back and forth between them. “Please don’t kill me!” he sniffed. Henry shifted, uncomfortable.

“You’re not sorry,” snarled Victor, “You’re just sorry you got caught. Nobody gets to be an asshole to my human. Nobody.”

“It’s just a parking spot, Victor. Not a big deal.” Victor turned to him. He shrank back. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” he said. 

“What-”

“I’m making your life better. Remember that boss you hated? I took care of it. And now you don’t hate your job. This is for you, Henry.” He yanked the man’s hair, baring his neck. 

He sank his teeth into the man, drinking long and deep. Henry’s mind whirled. Had Victor really been killing off everyone who was mean to him? 

Victor finished, the man’s head lolling. 

“Look at him,” purred Victor, voice husky. “He’s still alive. Think he’ll chalk it up to a dream, or pass on to the next life?”

He came close, blood smeared over his mouth. He stepped right up to Henry, taking his chin in hand.

Henry whimpered.

“Don’t be scared,” cooed Victor against his lips. Victor kissed him, copper on his tongue. 

What was happening?

Victor pulled away, pupils blown. His cool hand came to rest on his ass.

“Victor-” he started, but for some reason he couldn’t, didn’t, pull away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. A curl of heat smoldered in Henry’s gut. “Three years,” continued Victor, “and I never told you that. Isn’t that strange?”

“Ye- yeah.” Victor pressed a kiss to his throat, mouthing up to just under his jaw.

“Wait-” he said, regaining himself. Victor paused, pulling away. “All those restaurants, all those presents, were- were they-”

“Dates? Yeah,” admitted Victor. “You needed a stronger hint.”

Fuck. He’d seen the way Victor looked at him, the way he waited in the car under a blanket for hours just for Henry to get off work. He thought it was just hunger, and it was, but it was more than that. And Victor was attractive, and mostly kind-

The dying man behind them groaned.

And it was too much. “I don’t want this,” he whispered. Victor stepped away, turning from him.

“Please,” said Henry, “I’m sorry-”

“No, you’re not,” said Victor. His heart sank. Victor was finally going to kill him. 

But then Victor turned, and he didn’t look mad at all. 

“It’s okay,” he said, stepping close again. And his eyes, they were so pretty now. So big and deep, and what was he thinking about? “You just need a little nudge.”

Oh yeah. 

Victor was attractive, and mostly kind, and took him to places he never could have afforded and-

He snorted. His life was already so goddamn weird.

“Sure, why not? It’s not like you’re going anywhere,” said Henry. “Might as well make the most of it.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” agreed Victor. 

Victor kissed him again, and they fumbled their way to the couch. He wanted Victor, and he wanted him now, witness be damned.

The man was dying anyway.

___________________

Henry woke up the next morning in a great mood. Last night was just… incredible. It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe he missed it.

He snuggled back into Victor’s cool arms. 

Sure, it was fucked up, but who cared? Victor was hot and financially stable (aka rich as hell) and took care of him.

It just made sense.

Maybe he could get a nice car if he asked Victor.

___________________

He was a genius. Just a little nudge. Wasn’t even cheating, really. Charming never worked for so long.

Henry still had his personality the whole night, so it didn’t even count as Charming him. Just a tiny, itty bitty nudge, and his precious little human had finally given in to his wooing. They had a wonderful night of pizza, drinking, and sex. 

So good.

Draining that pesky little boyfriend four years ago had finally paid off. 

He was an asshole anyway.

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