#also this has a happy ending i promise

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[nattikay]

the constant inner struggle of a Na'vi speaker/teacher browsing Na'vi OCs

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

“And as for the Krang parasite…. I have a special plan for that ;3”

I swear to sweet pizza supreme, Pastel, if the next chapter somehow involves the parasite taking over Leo thus forcing his family to have to genuinely fight him in a similar vein to all those times they had to fight him when he was still Void…

I think I might actually faint-

no. no more fight scenes. pls. I’m not strong e nough oughghgh

(Sorry @/sp1n-dle really wanted to use your doodle as a reaction image lol)

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[sincerely-sofie]

*gently places angsty Twig comic in your hands*

There comes a point in healing, sometimes, where you must grieve the child you never got to be, and bury her along with the desperate hope of one day somehow becoming her.

It isn’t fair. And it never will be.

But you grieve the child, still.

[afewproblems]

Part Three Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings AU

Part One, Part Two, read on Ao3 Here

Thank you everyone for your patience, I am splitting up this last part into two (I know, I know - I'm sorry!!)

***

 The drive home after dropping Robin off was long. She had offered to stay the night again but Steve insisted she go home unless she wanted her parents to throw them and impromptu engagement party after she eventually graduates --Steve still winces when he thinks about Mrs.Buckley cooing about what sweet babies they would make when she thought he had left the other night. 

He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts off the Beemer’s engine; it feels criminal for the sun to still be at full force at this time but at least he's been able to avoid the heat for most of the day. 

And say what you will about the Harringtons, but at least they had invested in AC before skipping town without him.

Once inside Steve hangs his keys on the hook beside the door and heads upstairs to change. He just wants to crawl into bed, hide himself under the covers and sleep after the day he's had. 

Robin did her best to give him a pep talk after their run in with Eddie at Family Video but it had mostly consisted of her brainstorming how to shave his head without implicating themselves. 

It made Steve laugh despite arguing that Eddie's hair was his third best feature and Steve is fairly certain he would be second in line to avenge it next to Eddie.

Steve throws on an old pair of pajamas and a ratty Hawkins high t-shirt from the floor beside his laundry basket. He sniffs it dubiously and throws it on, it could go another day without a wash --it's just him tonight anyway. 

Alone again.

Steve makes his way downstairs and debates a frozen pizza or the leftovers in the Tupperware Mrs.Henderson had forced into his hands before he left their house the other night. 

He'd picked up a lot of recipes from Claudia and learned different ways to stretch an ingredient across multiple meals or even make a single meal last multiple days -with his parents gone so often it had been crucial for him to learn. Steve isn't even sure where they are at this point or if they know about the earthquakes. 

A small part of him hopes they don't know, because if they did and still haven't called or come back to Hawkins to check on him….

Steve quells that line of thought and tosses it into the little box in the corner of his mind. 

Don't think about it. 

Steve rolls his shoulders and opens the fridge before taking out the tupperware and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

The sudden sound of tires crunching and an engine turning off outside has him looking towards the front entryway, it's definitely in his driveway, but he isn't expecting anyone?

Oh god…what if it's Hopper or Nancy? Another gate? If Vecna's back, they needed him. 

Steve nearly drops the plate in his hands in his haste to get to the door, he manages to put it on the counter before sliding over the hardwood floor as he stumbles into the foyer. 

Steve flings open the door to reveal a nervous Eddie Munson on his doorstep.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice pitched with surprise and concern, he looks around for any sign of one of the other kids, "What is it? Is it Vecna? Is anyone hurt?"

Eddie blinks, his eyebrows pop up into his scruffy bangs, "What? No, no man, it's just me".

Steve breathes out a sharp sigh of relief and lets his heart rate slowly calm down, but if it wasn't the Upside Down why the hell was Eddie here? 

Contrary to popular opinion, Steve wasn't actually stupid, he knew Eddie wouldn't just be here for him, he'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't friends.

"Oh," Steve mumbles, still confused, "did you leave something here the other night?"

Eddie tilts his head slightly and his eyebrows fall into the barest furrow, "No Steve, I just, can I come inside?" 

His right hand twitches once before reaching for the door frame as he steps forward.

A million questions nearly burst forth from Steve, what do you want? Did the kids put you up to this? Are you going to say it to my face this time? What do you want from me?

He wrenches them back, shoving them all into that same little box, and instead says, "yeah man," as he steps aside to let Eddie through.

Eddie grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the anxious feeling in Steve's gut, twisting and cold, begins to build again.

All at once Steve is incredibly aware of the fact that he's wearing pajamas and a dirty old t-shirt, he's sweaty and tired from a long day at work and he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to be told off again.

"Hey, Eddie, listen," Steve fumbles through the words, he reaches up to pinch his fingers into his eyes, "if this is about Hellfire, I'll back off, I didn’t mean to," he stops and swallows, searching for what to say. 

Because, what did he even do? It's still not clear and the thought makes him want to grind his teeth.

"To like, interfere with your set up? Or, or, actually, you know what,” Steve's voice suddenly climbs in volume, "I don't know, what did I do Munson?"

Steve raises his hands from his eyes to his hair which he grips harshly with one hand while the other gestures wildly in front of him.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to Family Video,” Steve shakes his head and chews harshly on his bottom lip, “if you hate me, I don't understand why you keep coming around?" 

Eddie is frozen in front of him, a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in his eye, his mouth opens once and closes, but Steve keeps going.

"I mean, was this just some kind of weird game to you? Let's see how much we can stick it to old King-Steve? I heard you that night man," his eyes begin to sting as he yells, his throat tightens and the words waver slightly at the end. 

Steve grits his teeth to keep himself from speaking, from revealing more than he wants to, he hasn't felt like this since Nancy called him Bullshit in the middle of that crowded Halloween party and isn't that thought a punch to the gut.

Steve shakes his head and turns his face away to pinch his nose so harshly he worries it'll bruise.

"So," Steve whispers, letting the fight drain out of him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, "what do you want, because I am not really up for whatever this is". 

Eddie isn't looking at him anymore, his face is pointed at Steve but his eyes are trained on a point on the floor between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Unbelievable.

"Look," Steve breathes out, he reaches up and presses the fingers of his left hand into his eyes, surreptitiously wiping away any evidence of moisture, and gestures behind him at the foyer, "if you want something just spit it out, otherwise I'm tired and I'm going to bed so--"

"I'm sorry" Eddie blurts out, he takes a step closer to Steve who steps back without a thought. Eddie winces at the movement and draws his arms around himself.

Eddie seems to hesitate, his eyes dart over Steve's face and once towards the front door before his expression flattens and his shoulders square in one fluid movement. 

Steve's stomach does a little swoop as he remembers that Eddie nearly sacrificed himself to save Dustin, he wonders if his face held the same expression before he cut the rope.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I," Eddie swallows audibly and shifts his weight from foot to foot, "I was so sure of something for a really long time and it made me act like an ass". 

"Sure of what?" Steve says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How much do you remember about me from school?" Eddie murmurs eventually, there's a slight tremor running through his hands which tighten their grip on the sides of his jean vest until his knuckles stain white.

Steve shakes his head, there wasn’t much, but by the time he had heard whispers of the name Munson, he had been dealing with Hargrove, and Nancy, and Dustin's attempts at rehabilitating a demo-dog --he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time to worry about some metal-head that stood on tables in the school cafeteria. 

Eddie's breathing stops and starts in short shallow hitching breaths and his face grows even paler than normal, he looks like he's seconds from passing out if Steve is being honest with himself. 

Fuck.

"Hey, hey Eddie, come on breathe man," Steve says sharply, he moves quickly, keeping his hands up ready to catch him, just in case, as Steve leads Eddie towards the kitchen. 

He helps Eddie sit down on a stool by the counter ledge and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Steve flits around the kitchen, distracting himself with getting Eddie water and a cool damp washcloth which he drapes over the back of his neck.

Eddie lets his head droop slightly with the weight of the towel and scoffs, muttering something under his breath; Steve's hackles raise of their own accord as he steps away from him.

"I'm just trying to help man, Jesus," he bites out, resisting the impressive urge to throw the other man out. Steve leans against the wall opposite Eddie instead and scowls. 

"Christ," Eddie snaps as he grabs the cloth and brings it around to wipe his face, "I said, I can't believe I thought you were a Grade-A asshole".

Steve suppresses a flinch at the title, the tightness in his chest returns at full force.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, slumping in his seat as the anger seems to drain out of him. Eddie closes his eyes, holding up the towel, "how did you know that would help?" 

He reaches for the glass in front of him, the slight tremble of his fingers the only remaining sign of Eddie's panic.

Steve shrugs, a small part of him wants to tell Eddie about the Russians.

How his sense of touch almost always helped to snap him out of an episode, whether it was Robin’s small warm hand on his cheek when things got too much, or a cool wet washcloth to wipe away the sweat from his brow after a waking nightmare. It was grounding, bringing him back to the present quicker than any other method he and Robin have tried in the last year or so since recovering from their time underneath Starcourt.

Steve’s not quite ready for that conversation though.

Eddie's watching, analyzing him the way Robin does sometimes and Steve realizes he must have been quiet for awhile, Eddie’s big brown eyes trace over Steve questioningly, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. 

"You want to talk about it?" Steve says slowly, changing the subject. He half expects Eddie to tell him to shove it and get up from the stool to leave, pretending this conversation never took place. 

He doesn't though.

Instead Eddie drops the towel on the counter and brings both of his hands to his face. He sits there, hunched for almost a minute solid before letting them drop back into his lap.

Eddie doesn't look at Steve as he starts to speak.

"I've lived with my uncle for a very long time," he says softly, the words almost too quiet for Steve to make out at first, "I moved in with him just before highschool". 

Eddie swallows and licks his lips, "I told you a little bit about my dad already yeah?" 

He raises his eyes to finally look at Steve, who nods again. It feels wrong to speak, like he would be interrupting.

"Well, he wasn't arrested till after I was in Hawkins, but I don't think I really felt safe until the day Wayne got that call". 

Steve's stomach abruptly falls into his shoes. 

Sure, Eddie's story about learning to hot wire had made Steve pause but he hadn't really thought more about that story beyond the ease with which Eddie brought the vehicle to life. He feels his chest twinge with shame this time and steps closer.

"Apparently," Eddie continues, slowly, carefully, "Billy Hargrove had taken it upon himself to tell everyone he could about me and my shitty fuckin' family".

"That uh," Eddie's wary eyes flick up at Steve once more, his expression tight, "that my dad kicked me out, woulda killed me if he could've".

Steve feels a chill roll up his spine at the words.

“And he wasn’t wrong, got all the details right somehow, even the one about me liking--" he trails off before wiping his left hand down his face while the right reaches for the towel again and begins fiddling with it.

Steve makes a noise, something soft and understanding, he takes a step closer to the counter, halting as Eddie looks up with open panic.

"But," Eddie continues with watchful eyes, "up until a few hours ago, I thought…you had done that".

And that is the last straw.

Steve doesn't think this time when he moves, he steps up to Eddie and before he can even open his mouth or flinch Steve has him wrapped in his arms.

It's awkward with Eddie still seated on the stool, his face pressed into Steve's collarbone, but he’s tense and Steve knows he's stopped breathing altogether. 

"I'm sorry about your dad," Steve murmurs into the top of Eddie's wild hair, and he is. Steve knows exactly what it's like to have a dad that uses violence to get his way, that screams first and asks questions later.

Eddie shakes his head once, an incredulous expression pulls at his brow as he leans back slightly to look Steve up and down once more before he grins sharply.

"Yeah well," Eddie hums, "I'm sure he wasn't planning on having a fag for a kid".

Steve pulls away abruptly, but keeps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, his face briefly twisting into a harsh scowl. Steve doesn't catch the terror that flits across Eddie's face as he stands up to his full height.

"Don't call yourself that," Steve says harshly, "and don't use that word around Robin and the kids".

He lets go of Eddie entirely, and begins to pace, "Your dad is a piece of shit, who didn't deserve you and Billy Hargrove is lucky he's dead," Steve growls lowly, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose, he needed to calm down.

Like he said, Billy was dead, and the senior Munson was in some prison somewhere where he couldn't get to Eddie anyway, and not every problem required the use of his fists, Robin's words echo in his ear. 

"What?" Eddie blurts out, surprise painting his face. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Steve as though he's never seen him before. 

But there's a fire in Steve that has been burning for three years, ever since he tried to apologize to Jonathan and Nancy the very first time, and the flames burned even brighter a year ago when he stopped to take in Robin's pale, desperate, face as she told him about Tammy.  

"And I know Hawkins is shit, trust me," Steve growls, he steps into Eddie's space again, "but there are people here who believe that there is nothing wrong with you, got it? You have us now".

"I, I know," Eddie mumbles, he's still watching Steve with something akin to awe in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as Steve spots it.

"Thank you," Steve says eventually, "for telling me, sorry if I freaked you out just now".

It's quiet in the kitchen for a beat, the only noise is the steady tick of the large wall clock beside the pantry and the hum of cicadas from outside the kitchen window Steve had forgotten to close that morning.

Steve nervously chews his lip, he's ruined it again, his second attempts at being cool about someone coming out to him even worse than the first. Robin had been nice about it at the time -and admittedly neither of them could quite remember the bulk of the conversation, but he does remember telling Robin her first crush was a dud and sounded like a dying Muppet. 

So, he was two for two.

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly.

Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie. 

"You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are".

Oh. 

Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know".

"Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--"

"I know--"

"No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut.

He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on. 

"I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward.

"I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?" 

"Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?"

"See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter. 

He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man".

Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?"

"Yeah well, I actually mean it this time".

"...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been. 

All that time he thought they were growing closer, that Eddie had been his friend. 

All those small moments over the last few months were nothing. Just two people with vastly different expectations of what they meant to one another. 

Eddie’s face twists as the words tumble out at a mile a minute, "no, fuck, Steve, I can't, just--I don't," he grabs two handfuls of hair and yanks, hard, "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry, and I'm fucking it up.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before letting it all out in one smooth motion, "you're amazing, Steve, and I'm kicking myself for not seeing that before”.

He takes a step towards Steve but hesitates,spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I’m just, I’m really sorry and I hope that you can forgive me, that we can get back to where we were before?”

Steve feels himself smile mechanically, his chest tight and cold, he nods once and hears the words, 'yeah man,' leave his mouth. It's as though he's in a fog, everything feels so far away.

The smile Eddie gives him is brilliant, bright enough to light up the kitchen but Steve turns away and sweeps a tremulous hand through his hair. 

"Yeah, Eds, we'll see each other around, we're good".

Eddie's smile falters slightly, but Steve is determined to end this conversation, go upstairs and crawl into bed for a millennia,

"I'll put in a good word with Mrs. Henderson," Steve continues, gesturing towards the abandoned tupperware on the counter, "I think she'd listen if I told her you guys needed a place for Dusty-Bun's club".

Eddie's face falls slightly, "What, Steve--" 

"It'll be great, Claudia makes the best snacks and she honestly has a better basement than the Wheelers --but don't ever say that to Mike or you'll never hear the end of it," Steve says with a half smile as he walks towards the counter to grab the tupperware, he lifts it up to show Eddie before he reaches for the fridge door to put it away.

He's not hungry anymore anyway. 

"But…" Eddie whispers, the tone catches Steve's attention but he can't look at Eddie right now, he just wants to sleep.

"I mean, you could come, you know," Eddie clears his throat and moves, the sound of fabric and shoes scuffing across hardwood makes Steve finally look up.

Eddie is beside him, his expression equal parts wary but hopeful, his big brown eyes fixed on Steve.

I thought Hell would freeze over? Steve thinks to himself angrily before biting the inside of his cheek. 

They've just reached some kind of truce, Eddie apologized for fucks sake, he should just let this go. 

But there is a heat now that simmers in his chest, it makes him want to scream. Steve swallows roughly and pushes the feeling down, trying his best to smother the flames into embers before they engulf him completely.

If friendship is all he is allowed, then Steve can work with that, he just has to reign things in a bit. He’s been playing fast and loose with his heart for so long and that it's become a dangerous game.

"Yeah, sure, I can," Steve mumbles tiredly, "I just have to check my schedule, Keith's been keeping me on my toes lately". 

He shrugs and gives Eddie a wane smile before clearing his throat and turning away, "anyways man, I'm beat".

Steve moves towards the opposite hallway, he feels like he's escaping.

Eddie stands in the kitchen, shoulders drooped, but he nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He takes a step towards the foyer before turning sharply around.

"Harring- Steve," Eddie winces, "Steve, I also wanted to say we're sorry about the table, we didn't mean to scratch it all to hell that night and," he swallows roughly, "I can, we can chip in to…help fix it or whatever". 

But Steve is already shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "it's cracked actually--"

"What?!"

"No, no," Steve cuts in, he waves his hand to sweep away the panic in Eddie's voice, "Sorry, it's been cracked for awhile, you guys didn't have anything to do with it".

Eddie deflates in obvious relief, he laughs brightly, letting the last of his nervous energy flow out in a cackle.

"Fuck man, thank God, I definitely do not have the money to fix that shit," Eddie sweeps his hands into his curls to pull them away from his face, "why's it still cracked?"

Steve shrugs, "No one's bothered with it before, easier to just leave it I guess," he breathes out sharply through his nose in something like a laugh, "I wouldn't know how to fix it if I tried, never been good at woodworking". 

Steve looks back at Eddie to find him staring, his eyebrows have pinched together and gone is the smile that shone nearly as much as the rings on his hands. 

"Anyway, I'll see you around man," Steve hums, he doesn't need Eddie analyzing him, seeing something in him that he shouldn't. It’s a dismissal, one that Eddie seems to take well, despite the stiffness of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll see ya," Eddie says softly over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the kitchen, back towards the front door.

Steve waits until the door has closed, until he hears gravel under tires, until he's sure that Eddie is gone. His chest tightens once more with hot blistering anger that builds in his stomach before overflowing into his chest.

It drives him forward, the anger, the overwhelming heat building up his neck and pounding in his head, he's at the counter all of a sudden.

The plate he was going to use for supper is in his hands.

He raises it over his head and brings it down in a satisfying clash of shattered ceramic that explodes all over the hardwood.

Steve stands there, breathing raggedy in a daze.

Fuck.

The floor is covered in shards of varying sizes, he realizes belatedly he's only wearing socks but the thoughts come slow as though dragging themselves through mud. 

Steve steps over the ceramic and walks to the pantry, he removes the broom and dustpan from the small hanger on the inside of the door.

Steve begins to sweep up the shards into a little pile, wincing as a few pieces here and there cut through the fabric of his socks and into the soles of his feet.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop into the pile of plate shards and dust. Steve scrubs his arm over his eyes roughly and sniffs, his lungs stutter once as he chokes out a wet cough. 

"Get it together," he says sharply to himself.

Steve methodically sweeps the rest of the plate into the dustpan and walks towards the sink before opening the bottom cupboard and tipping the pan into the garbage can. 

He takes off his socks and examines the bottoms, there are a few small pieces of plate but no blood -Steve counts it as a win.

Steve leaves the broom and dustpan out and walks himself and the dirty socks out of the kitchen and up the stairs back to his room, his limbs feel heavy and the steady heat that had crawled up his neck has been replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that he longs to sink into.

Steve closes his bedroom door and steps towards the bed, allowing himself to tip forward and collapse against the comforter.

It's hard to move now, everything feels sore, from the tips of his toes, and the soles of his feet, to the top of his head. It's as though someone stretched him out between their hands and twisted and twisted until there was nothing left inside of him. 

He's empty and that thought is terrifying.

Steve reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, he manages to snag it by the cord and narrowly avoids smacking himself in the face as the hard plastic swings into his hands. He dials the Buckley's home number by memory and waits.

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Mrs.Buckley, can you put Robin on?"

"Of course dear, but we are going to be having dinner soon so not too long okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Buckley,"

He waits, letting his pillow cradle the phone to his ear while the muffled background noise of the Buckley household trickles through the speaker, talking and television and laughter. It's a stark contrast to his own silent home. 

"Steve?"

"Hey Bobby," he nearly whispers into the receiver, he feels himself melt into the mattress at the sound of her voice.

"Steve" Robin grumbles over the line, "I just left you like an hour ago, what's up?"

He chews on his lip and the words for a beat, considering how to even tell her, "Eddie, um, came by".

"What?!" Robin's voice squeals over the speaker and Steve almost drops the phone as he jerks it away from his ear, "what did he want? Did you let him in?"

"Yeah Bobs," he sighs tiredly, "he, he apologized--"

"Steve, we talked about this, you forgive people way too easily--"

"I know, I just…" he doesn't even know how to say it, that a rage burnt him up from the inside out until he was nothing but hollow embers and smoke.

"Robin, I was so angry," 

"Did you yell at him? What did you say?"

"No," he pushes himself up from the pillows, just catching the phone as it threatens to tumble from his shoulder, "he left, he, we talked about going back to normal, he…"

"Steve, what the hell did he say this time, you have to tell me, it's like the platonic soulmate law--"

"He didn't mean it the first time, when we talked in the Upside Down, that he thought I was a good dude, everything I thought for months has been a lie," his voice shakes as he continues, "he thought I spread this awful rumor about him back in highschool and he's never forgiven me for it, but I had no idea and I didn't do it -I know I was the fucking worst back then but Robin I promise you I didnt-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, do you want me to come over?" 

"No, your mum said you had dinner right away,"

"Steve, you’re way more important than dinner, that's so lame but it's one thousand percent true and I'll come up with something better when I get to your house, I'm leaving now".

Steve smiles as Robin hangs up with a soft, ‘see you in a minute!’ and sets the phone back on the receiver, he closes his eyes and tucks his face into the pillows for just a moment. 

Steve wakes with a start to the sound of feet hitting the stairs two at a time, he looks over at the red numbers on his bedside clock and squints as copper sunlight hits his face through his bedroom window. It's nearly quarter after seven now and the exhaustion that had held his limbs seems to have loosened ever so slightly. 

Steve doesn't move from the bed as Robin opens his door and pads slowly across the carpet. She says nothing in greeting and crawls onto the mattress. Steve shifts slightly to let her wiggle her way in between him and the bedroom wall.

"You asshole," Robin scolds softly, but there's still a smile in her voice, "you didn't even lock your front door, anyone could have come in here".

She wraps her thin arms around him from behind and Steve feels himself melt into the embrace.

"This have anything to do with the broom and dustpan on the counter?" she continues after a beat, "you don't really strike me as the sweeping type, it was like pulling teeth getting you to do it at scoops".

"Vacuuming is better" he mumbles into his pillow.

Robin is warm behind his back, holding him steady, and he finds himself reaching for her hand draped over his chest. The easy affection soothes the remaining burn in his heart.

"I smashed a plate," Steve says so softly he can feel Robin even shuffle closer to hear him. 

She's quiet a moment, but she doesn't move away. If anything, Robin seems to drape herself over his shoulder even more, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth. Steve swallows roughly and turns his face further into the pillows. 

"Nothing like a good plate smash," she mumbles sagely into his ear, "I think I read that in a magazine once, buy cheap dishes so you got something to smash when things just get too much," she pauses to sit up and turn him over to face her, "or maybe it was pencils".

Steve snorts as she mimes a violent snapping motion with her hands, and finally let's himself look at her. 

Robin's smiles as his eyes meet her own, but there's still a flicker of worry behind her blue ones that she can't seem to hide. 

And she isn't the only one who is worried.

This wouldn't be the first time he's acted out because of his anger. Steve would be the first person to admit he has a history of impulsive behavior, throwing himself fist first into situations before he can properly think it through. 

He says things in the moment he regrets later. Hell, Steve vandalized private property because he was angry with Nancy for christ sakes.

But this was different, it felt different. This scared him. It was like he had taken a backseat for a moment, disengaged from the world and came back to himself surrounded by shattered ceramic and a deep feeling of shame. 

He wonders, belatedly, if this is how his father felt when he would break things, when he would scream at Steve until he was red faced and shaking, when he would slam doors and smash the flat palm of his hand into walls or dragging his heavy class ring over the previously unblemished wood surface of his grandmother's table. 

It's terrifying to think about.

"You want me to stay?" Robin whispers after a beat.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose, "I'm sure your parents would love that," he wiggles his eyebrows and attempts a lecherous wink, laughing at the squawk Robin makes.

She grabs one of the pillows and catches him with a face full of cotton batting, "Hey, for a fake boyfriend I could do worse you perv".

It starts an all out war, Steve lets her get him into a headlock before he licks all the way up the offending arm holding him in place, she lets go with a cry of, 'Gross!' and swings the pillow into his face again.

By the end of it they're both laughing so hard they can't even sit up.

"Robin," Steve says softly. 

They're laying on the bed, Steve with his head on the pillow by the headboard and Robin laying with her head closest to the end. She nudges his ear with her toe and he jerks away with a squawk.

"Yeah?" Robin groans as she slides her elbows towards her head to prop her torso up to look at him.

He lets his eyes trace over her, this girl who can make him laugh no matter what, who seems to read his mind with little to no trouble, who is ready to loudly defend him whenever possible.

He loves her so much.

Steve shakes his head, a prickly static charge builds in his hair as it rubs against the pillow, "just, you're just the best person I know," he says eventually, "don't tell Dustin I said that, but I'm glad I met you".

Robin mimes pulling a zipper closed over her mouth and flicks away the metal pull. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are suspiciously shiny at the tender admission.

"You absolute goof, do you keep onions under your bed," she snarks after wiping her eyes with her hand, she takes her wet fingers and wipes them off on his pajamas. 

"I'm glad I met you too, and if you want to talk about," she half shrugs and tips her head towards his bedroom door, "you know, the plate thing, I'm here".

She reaches for his ankle resting next to her elbow and gives it a squeeze, "God, all the hair on your legs, it looks like you have a second set of pants on".

"Can't even be nice to me for longer than five minutes," Steve mutters as he steals the offending leg to sit up on the bed.

"I didn't bring anything," Robin says suddenly, looking over at the glaring red numbers on Steve's alarm clock on his side table, "what's a gal gotta do for some food and some pj's?"

Steve rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs and throws them over the side of the bed, sitting up while he's at it, "you figured out a Russian spy code with your little genius ears but you couldn't snag a change of clothes before you left?"

"Hey, you called me, I came running," Robin tells him firmly, she sits up and scooches over to sit beside him with her legs draped over the edge and their thighs pressed together.

"I know Bobby, I knew you would," he says softly as she leans her head to rest on his shoulder, the weight at his side is warm and familiar and pulls a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Steve lets his head loll to the side to rest on Robin's, his limbs loose as a tension he hadn't realized had been trapped in his shoulders flows out of him.

***

Over the next few weeks things begin to ease back into some semblance of normal.

It's not easy.

Steve ends up having to trick the kids into going to the old ice cream parlor where Eddie is waiting for them to make a separate apology for their last Hellfire meeting. 

Steve insists they're fine to the four sets of  disbelieving eyes that scowl at both of them, he and Eddie have buried the hack-saw and there's nothing more to say.

"It's hatchet, Steve," Dustin says with exasperation and barely concealed glee, “you buried the hatchet, sometimes I think you say these things on purpose".

"Oh Dusy-bun," Steve hums, reaching out to catch Dustin with his arm and drag him into a loose headlock, "I absolutely do it on purpose".

It's a little awkward, Will still seems a bit wary of Eddie, but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas obviously missed their Dungeon Master.

Steve can't help the clawing guilt that sits heavy in his stomach from being at the center of their little fight, but a small irritable part of him is envious of how quickly they all fall back into step with one another without missing a beat.

"This place is alright," Lucas says once they've all settled into a hideous lime green booth with their treats, "but the butterscotch is shit compared to Scoops".

He's frowning at the half eaten cup in his hands like he's tempted to toss it right then and there.

"Ice cream is ice cream," Mike scoffs with a roll of his eyes, he reaches for the cup which Lucas snatches back just out of reach from grabby fingers.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't finish it--"

"You're practically giving it away dude, come on!" 

Eddie smiles and seems to finally relax into his seat, he leans across the table closer to Steve and Dustin and whispers conspiratorially, "What the hell is scoops?"

"Remember Starcourt?" Dustin chirps around a mouthful of Rocky Road before Steve can say anything, "Steve worked there, and Robin, that's how they met". 

Eddie tilts his head and frowns, his eyes pan back and forth between Dustin and Steve, "the mall that burnt down?"

Steve tenses, his right hand curls into a fist beneath the table while the little wooden spoon in his left hand threatens to snap between his fingers resting on the sticky table top.

Eddie glances at him curiously before looking back to Dustin who continues to speak, oblivious to the strangers around them.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't a fire--"

"Dustin," Steve snaps, more loudly and harshly than he intends, but it catches the teens attention. Steve shakes his head once and gestures around the shop, they're one of three full tables of people but even still, their voices have been carrying all afternoon.

Dustin has the good graces to look sheepish before scowling at the ice cream in his hands, "no one's listening--"

"Not here--" Steve manages to spit out between his teeth before all four kids are arguing at the top of their voices.

"Don't yell at Dustin!" 

"No one's even in here!"

"What, we can't even talk about this with each other now?"

"Fuck off Steve--"

Steve almost laughs, it's the first time in two weeks the kids have acted like their old selves instead of walking on eggshells around him, weighing their words carefully, avoiding bringing up Eddie or Hellfire and trailing off when he enters a room.

"Hey," Eddie says sharply, "layoff your babysitter alright, Jesus Christ guys".

And suddenly the spell is broken.

Lucas slowly puts down his cup and Mike rolls his eyes but seems to deflate in his seat, leaning into Will who frowns at Eddie slightly. Dustin crosses his arms across his chest and glares with a mutinous expression at the table. 

Dammit.

"Okay, everyone relax, finish up and let's go," Steve sighs. He reaches over and tugs on Dustin's ever present cap with his right hand while the left hand, still holding his spoon, snags a little taste of Lucas's cup of butterscotch. 

All of the kids start yelling again, but this time laughter rings out as the earlier tension melts away. 

Steve looks at Eddie who smiles widely at him, relief evident in his big brown eyes; he can't stop the small grin that takes over his own face at the sight, even if it does make his chest ache. 

They leave shortly after, the kids prattle on about some sci-fi movie that's caught their eye for the next trip to the Hawk Theater. Dustin argues that sequels never hold up while Will insists that as long as there are Aliens, as the title suggests, it should be just as good as the first.

Steve and Eddie follow just behind the group, Eddie slows down to walk in step with Steve. 

"Sooo that was a little…intense," Eddie says, it's phrased more like a question and the way he's looking at Steve, like he's waiting for an answer for why the air in the ice cream place seemed to shift. He reaches for Steve's elbow with soft fingers that curl around and press into his denim jacket. 

The kids have already piled into the beamer, Lucas snags the front seat since it's his turn --much to the irritation of Mike who 'never gets front seat dibs!'

Eddie swings in front of Steve slightly, letting his hand maintain contact at Steve's elbow, grounding them both.

Eddie's eyes narrow, just enough that Steve catches it, "You just…seem a little on edge or something".

Steve shugs and carefully pulls on a small neutral grin. It's comfortable, he's worn it before.

"Yeah man," he looks away from Eddie's concerned gaze, "it's all good, I'll see you later alright?

He keeps the tone bright. It's not his customer service voice, this is something he's carefully honed over years of sports injuries, smiling at teachers as they scolded him, or lying through his teeth to his dad after a particularly nasty screaming session.

It's light, and something he's never had to break out with Robin.

A small part of Steve was hoping he'd never have to use it on Eddie, but here they were.

"I gotta get the kids back anyway," it's not quite a lie but it's only three in the afternoon, and the words only seem to push Eddie a little further as his fingers curl more firmly around Steve's elbow.

"Steve," Eddie says again, but Steve is already pulling himself out of Eddie's grip, his hand falls away to hang limply at his side, silver rings glinting in the midafternoon sun.

Steve waves and makes his way to the driver's side door, ignoring the way Eddie's eyes follow him and the downward curve of his mouth.

He opens the car door and lets it shut, allowing the chaos of noise and teenage yelling drown out the guilt that followed him into the car.

"So," Dustin says from the back as Steve buckles himself in,"are you sure you guys are good?" 

Steve pauses for just a second before he blinks and puts the key in the ignition, "yeah, 'course man, why wouldn't we be?" 

Dustin is quiet for a moment, all of the kids are. 

There is a strange, somber heaviness in the vehicle as Steve makes his way down mainstreet. 

Mike seems off in his own stormy little world, glaring at the hands in his lap while Will looks out the window with a sad frown. Steve feel's Dustin and now Lucas watching him, their gaze enough to make him itch. 

"You guys just seem different," Dustin insists, he crosses his arms over his seatbelt and leans back into his seat. 

"You guys don't touch like you used to," Lucas says matter of factly.

Dustin snaps his fingers and leans forward once more to grab the back of Lucas's seat, "that's what it is! It's been driving me crazy!"

A dull ache throbs in Steve's chest as the kids continue to talk over one another, the volume gradually rising in the small space.

"Okay, first of all, I will crash this car if you all keep yelling," Steve barks over the four incessant voices, "Jesus, second of all, we don't touch each other--"

"Yes you do!"

"Um, have you met yourselves?"

"Jesus, it's like you're a pair of Octopuses!"

"If you're both sooo good why didn't you guys hug goodbye like you used to?"

"Enough," Steve says sharply, he signals right and slowly pulls off to the side of the road, letting the crackle of gravel fill the now silent vehicle. Steve grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have faded to white to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Look," Steve sighs, he lifts one hand away from the steering wheel to scrub harshly over his face. It catches on the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I am an adult, and I can take care of myself".

"What about when Max saved you from Billy?" Mike scoffs, he ignores the elbow that Will throws into his side. 

"Or when Erica and I had to rescue you and Robin from the Russians?" Dustin challenges with equal ferocity. 

"That was different," Steve says with a scowl and a roll of his eyes, "I only got into those situations because I was looking out for you shitheads--"

"Exactly!!" Dustin crows with a smirk.

"Us shitheads stick together!" He raises his eyebrow like he's already won the argument and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Steve sighs and lets his head tip back into the headrest, he looks into the rear view mirror at the three sets of eyes staring back at him before tipping his face to the side to see Lucas's unwavering gaze from the passenger seat. 

"If I promise you guys that everything is fine for now, you'll drop it?"

The kids are quiet for a moment before Will says, "Party meeting, plug your ears Steve".

Steve considers just putting the car back into drive and continuing on their way, ignoring the ridiculous request. 

But it's Will, and the youngest Buyers has finally realized his ability to weaponize his big hazel eyes and bowl cut to get whatever he wants.

"How is this my life," Steve mutters under his breath but does as he's asked. 

He raises his hands to cup over his ears, muting the following low chatter around him. Steve hums a few bars of Dancing in the Dark to make whatever they're saying even more indistinguishable, because he's a damn good babysitter, before Lucas taps his elbow.

Steve shifts in the driver's seat, turning so he can see all of the beaming faces staring back at him. He feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We'll drop it," Dustin tells him with a smile that doesn't waver once as he looks over to Lucas and then Will, Mike rolls his eyes though the smallest of grins tugs at the corner of his lips.

"If you agree to host Hellfire again," Lucas says with a sly smile, holding his hand out with wiggling fingers for Will to match the corresponding move with his own confident hand. 

"Guys…"

"Come on Steve, you've got the best place for it and we'll make sure you have a good time!" Dustin leans across Mike who huffs and pushes him away, it doesn’t stop Dustin from clasping Steve’s driver's seat with his hands and squeezing the leather by Steve’s shoulder.

Steve holds in a scoff, doubting that they can really guarantee such a thing, especially if Eddie and the other Hellfire members will be there, but the kids are all doing their best impression of the youngest Wheeler, Holly, when she begs for piggyback rides.

"Fine," Steve huffs out, he feels a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth as the kids cheer. 

"Yeah, yeah, if you really want to make me happy, one of you should learn to fuckin' drive".

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420

And thank you to @flowercrowngods for your encouragement, I hope the stobin fluff makes up for this not being finished yet!

[httpiastri]

happy bday paul <3

[tippenfunkaport]

Bow vs Chipped Glimmer

The moment I you have been waiting for is here!

While Catradora take the Failsafe to the Heart, Bow’s sidelined from the battle, standing guard at the spire as Entrapta works to disable the chip network. But when Prime can’t take the princess of Dryl using his transporter, he turns to the next best thing and Bow finally gets to see for himself how much is left of his best friend.

If you're just tuning in...

Prime chipped both Catra and Glimmer but they only managed to save the cat

Catra and Adora each had their own solo battles with Glimmer and they went poorly

Adora's slightly losing her mind from guilt and has been lying to Bow and others to keep them out of harms way while she does everything herself (classic Adora, really)

Catra did not leave and plans to accompany Adora when she takes the Failsafe since Adora's pushed everyone else away

Madam Razz can see the future. As a treat.

Glimmer did a teensy bit of murder which convinced Adora that there's nothing left of Glimmer to save

Bow isn't so sure about that

...and now for our story already in progress!

Posting as part of the @wipbigbang and we're only 2 chapters out from the end now!

[stabbyfoxandrew]

you know what's fucking insane though???

it's only been 3 days in the mafia front fic. THREE DAYS= ~34k. (so far, we're still on day three rn)

wow i'm truly insane. three days... mein gott

(potential spoilers for this fic in tags???)

[ratwithhands]

I'm curious. I've seen your art and something that's come to my mind is what actually got you attached with the Subway brothers. Your narrative on their different AU forms is so unique which is what brought me to that question

Alright, rat history time.

So basically back in 2021-2022, I was working on an old OC storyline (about 3 years old by then) and I was in grade 9 so I was like “A new Pokémon game? Pfft, like I care” and just didn’t watch any of the stuff related to PLA when it dropped. I still got recommended Twitter posts about it on Instagram and I ended up seeing this one.

I tried looking up Ingo cause I was like "oh, funky design, looks like a captain or something" but I didn't end up finding anything so I didn't press further. Anyways in March break of 2022, I got bored and decided to put some game streams on in the background while I drew. I saw Alpharad's PLA video and decided to watch it for a bit when I saw Ingo.

I was like "Hey you're the guy from Twitter!" and since I knew his name now, I looked him up and found his Bulbapedia article. I found him much more interesting than the rest of the PLA cast since he had history outside PLA, and I ended up reading up whatever I could find on him. I also by extension discovered Emmet this way, which only served to suck me deeper down the rabbit hole. By the end of March break I had a fan OC and 2 AUs made with more on the way, as well as a YouTube recommended page with nothing but theory videos on Ingo and decade old Submas content.

Around May I decided to decommission my OC storyline for personal reasons, and by this point Submas was starting to occupy more of my creative work anyways. Since I didn't have my storyline to put my energy into, I started funnelling literally any story ideas into Submas. This led to nonstop content for a shockingly long time, and ofc I'm still coming up with stuff now.

Long story short, I got attached to them by accident! It was a "right place, right time" sort of thing since they came in as I was starting to get sluggish with my original content and I ended up being more interested in writing for them.

As for narratives, I am effectively playing dolls with these guys. Usually the kind of stuff that I write for them is meant for OCs, but I dumped the 60+ person cast so I put that energy into them instead.

Most AUs will either have a core theme, an out of pocket idea, or both to make things interesting. Usually I just come up with a dumbass idea like "what if we brought ReBURST back for a rerun" or "what if Emmet signed a contract with an eldritch space spider" or "what if Submas could see into the future" and stuff like that, then it picks up themes as I keep writing. For some silly examples:

Burst is based on Pokémon ReBURST and the idea of human-Pokémon fusion, but there's focus on skill, how characters misperceive it, and resentment as a result. There's also a spotlight on inferiority complexes, bottled up guilt, and blind confidence depending on which main character you look at

Journal is about a diary that helps Ingo to regain his memories, and it focuses on remembrance and regret as a result of him reading it. Spotlight on lacking awareness vs hyper awareness and the monotony of living as people around you leave

Oracle is exactly what it sounds like, with the twins being able to see into the future. It focuses on cooperation and the importance of working together, but also learning how to work alone. The spotlight's on jealousy and gratitude for this one, though the latter greatly outweighs the former in this case

I also just have AUs I made to try deranged shit for funsies, like Sapioflora, Cybernetic/Z-Λ, Team Supernova, and Idol. Those are mostly for exploring goofy ideas that may or may not go anywhere.

Right anyways basically I just saw Submas after watching PLA gameplay and found the twins more interesting to write about than the project I'd exhausted by then. The narratives are like that because the AU ideas I make are actually OC concepts that I modify to fit Pokémon specifically for these two or ideas about the two that I'd like to explore. Hope that answers the question ^^*

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hi Lofty!

We really didn’t want to give the boys back, but…..

Return

Shadow looked at the girls with wide, fearful eyes. “Do we really have to go back to the Westwing? Why can’t we just stay with you instead?” Power stood next to him with a carefully blank face, only his slightly trembling hands betraying his emotions.

Mel opened her mouth, about to say something when she got distracted by a loud banging noise coming from the door. The girls exchanged a look. “Who could that be at this time of the day?” Whispered Nancy. Mel shrugged and went to open the door, but froze when she saw who stood in front of her. A tall figure in a blue tunic and cap, covered in plate armor, with glowing white eyes looking at the two heroes still standing inside.

“You said seven days. It has been seven days by your reckoning. I’m going to bring them back now.” The Fierce Deity stepped around the girl still standing in the doorway and towards the boys, picking both of them up with ease and throwing them over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing.

“You can come with me and say goodbye or stay here. It’s your choice.” He said with his deep, rumbling voice as he walked towards the door. “Wait, we want to come with you!” Nancy blurted, being the first of the girls to shake off their surprise.

The two followed the tall being to the west wing, having to take five steps for each of his singular long strides. They eventually arrived at the west wing, where Fierce finally set the two disgruntled heroes down. He turned to the two girls, only now catching up enough to come through the doorway.

“...”

“ wow! you’re fast, well faster than i expected for a walk.” said Mel

“You have done well, these two small ones look much better after a week in your care.” Nancy saw the ghost of a smile on Fierce’s lips for a moment, before his usual wooden expression returned.

“Thanks? More importantly, I hope you guys take care of yourselves! and I hope that this was nice, you deserve nice things.” Nancy spoke the last part as though quoting something, though none of the heroes had any idea what.

“Goodbye until we can steal you away from Lofty again!” Mel called out with a wink

Shadow perked up, “Ducks?” he asked before the door was closed and locked by the Fierce deity, a moment after the lock clicked the sounds of Lofty’s car returning were heard and the girls scrambled for the window, hoping it was still open.

WELL OK FINE I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY 😭😭😭 My poor babies I feel like a villain sosjsbfofcjbsqljwber LOL

DONT WORRY BOYS I LOVE YOU I SWEAR—

HA Fierce being the one to retrieve them, seems appropriate he’s just like “ok time’s up” 😂

@nancyheart11, Mel, thank you two SO MUCH I cannot adequately express how cute and sweet this was, I literally would get so happy every time I saw an ask and looked forward to seeing what adventures they had ❤️❤️❤️ this was adorable

Love you both ❤️❤️❤️

[moregraceful]

Fic 1 q 4

Is there a part of your WIP that Twitter would try to cancel you for?

oh the entire story. the ENTIRE story. if the question i asked and attempted to answer in fragments was "what does a culture that has normalized the winner's room look like", the question in this one is "what does a culture that has normalized sexual assault look like broadly and for one man in particular who has had repeated harm done to him since he was 19, and how does that interact with the no sex before marriage religion he grew up with". i fear twitter would not enjoy thinking of winner's room in this way....like we really call a spade a spade in this imagine. ALSO i think for a certain kind of terminally online gay person, the top-bottom discourse would go insane...the sport values switch hitters!!!!

[panopticon fic wip ask meme]

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday: Part 3

As promised, here's the opening of Di Feisheng's section of Chapter 1 of the AU where Li Lianhua's shiniang tried and failed to sacrifice herself to save him. (To catch up, read part 1 (LLH) and part 2 (FDB) here).

And, uh, sorry about the cliffhanger?

Tw/cw: suicide attempt, medical emergency

***

Di Feisheng dropped to his knees behind Xiangyi, catching him against his chest rather than the ground as he fell. He snatched Xiangyi’s wrist–veins bulging and black, damn it–and felt for a pulse. Faint. Erratic. Still poisoned by Bicha. Completely emptied of Yangzhouman. Where the fuck was the Beifeng Baiyang he’d given him? Why couldn’t he feel it? How the–

“–Lao Di,” Fang Duobing wailed, “he was walking toward the water! He–”

“–Shut up,” he snapped, sending a wisp of his own qi through Xiangyi’s meridians. Or what was left of them. He bit back a growl. They were too damaged for his qi to travel with the sort of speed he needed to evaluate this. He didn’t have time to do full triage, not while Xiangyi’s pulse was getting fainter by the second. He’d start with the heart meridian then; that would be the best way to stabilize–

–why the fuck was his heart meridian shredded? Who had dared to–

–no, damn it, he had to focus. There would be time to rage later.

He had to repair it. But Xiangyi didn’t have the Yangzhouman for it, and the remnants Xiangyi had given him wouldn’t be enough. Could the brat–

“–Get out of the way,” Fang Duobing sobbed, shoving him and thrusting two shaking fingers toward Xiangyi’s chest, the force of his qi rippling the air. “I’ll do it.”

“No,” Di Feisheng snarled, hand flying from Xiangyi’s waist to smack the brat’s away before it would destroy whatever was left of his fragile meridians, “you’ll kill him.” 

“Bullshit!” the pup yelled, as Huli Jing began to howl at equal volume, “I’ve healed him before! Let me help!” The brat’s qi spiked and the sand around them rippled.

Oh for the love of– he didn’t have time to explain this and save Xiangyi. What the hell had the great sword God been teaching this whelp? Xiangyi, if you die, I’ll kill you myself.

He unclenched his jaw against the noise. “You want to help?” he gritted out, each word like knives against his tongue and ears. “Calm your qi. Stay quiet. And keep the mutt quiet, too.” 

“You–”

–Healing the heart meridian now was out, until that ignorant pup could keep a tighter leash on his qi. He’d have to work on the heart directly. 

Di Feisheng pressed his hand over Xiangyi’s chest, closed his eyes, and directed the faintest hint of his Beifeng Baichang to surround Xiangyi’s heart, ready to observe and mimic its movement, as he would any new sword form.

It wrapped around his heart in an embrace. 

Xiangyi’s heart gave one erratic flutter. 

A pause.

A second, weaker thrum against his qi.

Then nothing at all.

[avirael]

The Frozen Lake

It was the third day since he had stopped feeling like dying.

About a week ago he had woken up from his far too lifelike fever dream and a few days later the last spikes of the fever itself had been gone too just like the hallucinations it had brought in his sleep.

He still had been sick though and welcomed Rael telling him to stay in bed until he was perfectly healthy again all too eagerly.

While he still sneezed every now and then, it was at least tolerable now, still annoying but he didn’t feel incredibly uncomfortable anymore.

That day, just like the last and also the ones before that, he had awoken late. Against Rael’s order to stay in bed he had found the courage to get up and take a look out of the window. It was a sunny day, which in Coerthas still meant that it was bitterly cold though. But the sun was shining brightly and already high in the sky too which meant it had to be almost midday. He had slept way too long again, way to many hours for a surprisingly dreamless sleep. Or maybe it was exactly the lack of dreams that allowed him to finally rest, after all in the past there rarely had been good ones…

For a moment he considered to go downstairs and ask for a late breakfast if that wasn’t too insolent given the late hour but then a knock sounded from the door.

Quickly he hurried back to bed, just in case it was Rael, but the person who carefully peeked into the room a few seconds later wasn’t a viera.

“Ah, you are awake! That’s good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and brought a small tray with hot soup and also something warm to drink. “It is so late already, you must be horribly hungry. Alphinaud checked in on you earlier but you were still fast asleep and he didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

A little uncertain on how to answer to that, A’viloh just nodded. Haurchefant grinned, put down a mug on the bedside table and handed A‘viloh a comfortingly warm bowl filled with some rather delicious smelling stew.

Instead of fetching the chair from the small desk by the window, Haurchefant sat down at the lower end of the bed balancing the tray with his own lunch on his knees. Rael once told him that ishgardian society had an absurd amount of strict and antiquated rules and so A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder, that although it seemed like a very appropriate distance to him, in Haurchefant’s hometown the fact alone that he dared to sit on someone else’s bed was probably scandalous.

“I hope you don’t mind me having lunch with you.”, the Elezen asked as he noticed A‘viloh staring.

Quickly the Miqo’te lowered his gaze to his bowl of soup. “Not at all.”, he muttered and tried a spoonful of the food just to change the topic. “Mhh, this is very good!”, he mumbled, still chewing, surprised by how good this really was compared to the bland food and bitter teas Rael had usually brought him these last few days. It must have been the Viera’s way of punishing him for running away.

Haurchefant laughed and then for a while they ate in silence.

“You look a lot healthier already.”, the Elezen stated after a while with an amiable smile on his face before taking a sip from his mug.

A‘viloh shrugged a little embarrassed, since it had been his own fault that he hadn’t been well in the first place. “Only because all of you took so good care of me.”

Haurchefant nodded. “You know, you had us all horribly worried right?”

“Sorry about that.”, he said and guitily looked into his mug.

Curiously Haurchefant eyed him for a moment. “Why did you do that anyway? Run out into the storm.”

A bit surprised A’viloh looked up. Had they all thought he had done this on purpose? “There wasn’t a storm when I left! What do I know about weather? I didn’t expect it to start snowing, let alone that much!”

That made the Elezen chuckle again but he still looked at him expecting an answer.

“Still… why did you leave?”

“I assumed Rael told you…”, A’viloh replied not sure what Haurchefant wanted to hear exactly. He nodded. “Rael did. But maybe I want to hear it from you…”

A’viloh sighed. His plan hadn’t been very smart and he felt a little uncomfortable having to explain his reasons to someone else, when in retrospect it didn’t make much sense even to his own ears.

“You know the… circumstances under which we fled Ul’dah… I couldn’t… um… the fact that we didn’t even know what happened to our friends… I wanted to find out, because it doesn’t seem fair to me that we escaped while all of them didn’t…”

“Mhh…”, Haurchefant nodded thoughtfully but let go off the topic for now. Instead he asked, „And how are you feeling today?”

Somehow that question confused A’viloh even more.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”, he said still smiling politely.

Of course it was a simple question. Just the answer felt unreasonable complicated to him. To make things even more difficult people who asked such a question usually wanted to hear “I‘m fine, and you?” or “Very good, thank you.” for an answer and rarely the truth. They certainly didn’t want to hear “A few days ago I was convinced I was going to die and honestly it wasn’t that bad, so now I‘m still not sure wether I am happy to still be alive or not”.

“Alright… I guess.”, he mumbled instead. He had never been a good liar and could only hope that this fact wasn’t too obvious for the Elezen.

“You know what?”, Haurchefant proclaimed after watching him thoughtfully for a second. “Today is a wonderful day. We should go for a walk.”

“A walk?!”, A’viloh exclaimed wide-eyed, as if he had just asked something unreasonable of him.

“Why not?”

A’viloh couldn’t think of a good reason why not, other than that he was supposed to stay in bed, so he shrugged.

“Where’s Rael?”, he asked instead.

Haurchefant smirked. “Do you need Rael’s permission to go outside?”

“Of course not.”, the Miqo’te protested. “But Rael will be mad if I run off again, especially against their orders to stay in bed.”

“Rael and Alphinaud went to the observatory earlier.”, Haurchefant explained. “We’ll be back before they are, I promise.”

What was A’viloh supposed to say against that and also against the expectant look on the Elezen’s face. He took another glimpse towards the window and decided that it looked nice enough to go outside.

“Fine.”

“Good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and collected their empty bowls and mugs. “There should be warm clothes for you in the wardrobe. If you need anything else just ask someone. I’ll wait for you by the northern gate.”

After Haurchefant had left, A’viloh remained sitting in his bed for a moment longer contemplating on the Elezen’s question. Yes, he felt better again. But better in what comparison? Better than a few days ago when he had felt and also been half-dead? Though he didn’t feel sick anymore now, there still was a weigh on his heart. From his plan that had failed so spectacularly and even more so from the dreams he wouldn’t have minded to keep on dreaming forever.

Vehemently he shook his head and decided not to think about that now or he would just crawl back under the blanket of his comfortably warm bed again. Instead he got up and took a look into the wardrobe. Almost none of these were his own clothes of course since all he possessed were the ones he had worn on his body that day they fled Ul’dah. Very unsuitable for this climate. But neither did he see the borrowed clothes he had worn that night when he had tried to run away. Everything in here looked even softer and warmer like someone had wanted to make sure he was feeling comfortable. To his surprise the things didn’t look that much too big for him either, unlike his last set of clothes. Besides a few Hyur most people here at Camp Dragonhead were grown up Elezen but these clothes looked like they belonged to neither. Maybe it were clothes for Elezen children, he wondered and also thought that in that case someone must have brought them here just for him.

Grateful for so much effort he picked a few pieces and got dressed. Lazily he ran his fingers through his hair to get rid of the worst knots but the look into the small mirror at the washbasin, where his tired face stared back at him reproachfully, just made him sigh. Once he was ready he took the warm coat out of the wardrobe too and went out to look for Haurchefant. Just as he had said, the Elezen was standing by the gate that led to the north-east, towards the ruins of the Steel Vigil.

From afar Haurchefant already recognised the Miqo’te, his bright red hair a singularity among all the people living here. Pleasantly smiling as always he waved at him and A’viloh couldn’t help but smile a little too and wave back as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“There you are! I see the clothes fit you nicely.”

A’viloh nodded.

“They do. Thank you very much for these.”

Haurchefant dismissively waved with one hand. “It’s the least I could do…”

But he had done a lot more than that, A’viloh thought. “I think there’s more I need to thank you for. Rael told me it was you who saved my life.”

“Mhhh…”, Haurchefant tilted his head as if he wasn’t sure if this statement was entirely the truth. “Rael is too humble. They played a bit of a role in that too. After all it was Rael who noticed you were gone. And it was also Rael who didn’t leave your bedside and tried their best to heal you.”

A’viloh remembered waking up and finding the usually quite touch-averse viera cuddled up to him with a look on their face so horribly sad like he had never seen on them before. Rael had pretended it was nothing but it had been a very unconvincing performance. Asked about it Alphinaud had only offered a few sentences about how worried Rael had looked and how they had used all kinds of spells he himself had never seen or heard of before, all of it to try and save him. It had made him feel even more guilty for his stupidity.

So maybe Haurchefant was right. But still it had been him who had risked going out into the storm to find him.

“Anyway. I still want to thank you! Honestly.”, he insisted. But how honestly was it really?

Sure, he was glad to still be alive. After all his plan hadn’t been to run out into a blizzard and freeze to death, although some of them seemed to think that was the case. But once he found himself in this situation he had to admit that he had welcomed his fate rather willingly. A fact that shocked even himself a little looking back at it now.

“You’re welcome. After all you wouldn’t be any help to your friends frozen to death out there.”, Haurchefant joked with a wry smile on his lips.

“I guess not...”, A’viloh muttered, the topic of his friends making his mood visibly sink again.

Of course the Elezen noticed and his smile turned into a playful grin. “But I acted a little selfish too, you know? I think Camp Dragonhead is a lot friendlier with your company and I would like to have you and your pretty smile around a little longer.”

For a moment A’viloh’s eyes shot up to look at the others face before he quickly pretended that something somewhere a little bit to his left was a lot more interesting. Sometimes Haurchefant randomly said things, A’viloh hadn’t had the slightest idea how to react to. Not because he was that oblivious but simply because it puzzled him. Nonetheless the air suddenly didn’t feel that cold anymore on his face.

Haurchefant was always very kind to him. Well, he mostly was kind to everybody but sometimes he seemed to admire him especially. Him of all people, although there was nothing special about him. Haurchefant sometimes spoke of him like he was one of the greatest heroes of all time and it felt so ridiculous to him. He was just silly, cowardly A‘viloh! What had he ever achieved in his miserable life to justify such admiration? The people called him a Warrior of Light but wasn’t that some grand overstatement? Some days he thought all of this had been a horrible mistake. A great misunderstanding! Then he wondered how he had ever gotten entangled in this madness in the first place and also if he ever would get out of it again. But what else should he do with his life anyway...

While A’viloh’s brain still screeched in desperate search for a proper response, Haurchefant seemed to realise he had flustered him and glossed it over by gesturing to the gate.

“How about we walk a few yalms? There’s something you need to see!”

Still too dumbstruck to speak or to even wonder what the Elezen was talking about, A’viloh nodded and then proceeded to follow him out into the snowy landscape.

After a few minutes Haurchefant paused and took a deep breath. “Isn’t the air wonderful today?”

A’viloh followed his example, breathed deeply and let his gaze wander over the snow covered landscape with a few pines here and there and the mountains and ruins of the Steel Vigil in the distance. The air was cool and fresh, still cold enough that the warm sun couldn’t melt the snow. Instead the rays of sunshine made the scenery shine and sparkle as if everything was covered not in ice but in millions over millions of tiny diamonds.

“It is.”, he answered and smiled, surprised how beautiful this inhospitable landscape could be, before with a sudden spark of curiosity he finally asked. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not far anymore.”, Haurchefant said with a grin on his face and pointed into another direction. Shortly after and only a bit further ahead they reached a small lake.

As they got closer A‘viloh noticed that it not only was covered in a layer of snow and ice but also that quite a few off-duty soldiers, given the proximity to the camp he assumed they had to be, were standing right on top of the frozen lake. No, they were not quite standing. It looked more like they were dancing or flying maybe. More or less gracefully they moved over the lake‘s surface in fluid swift strides, some just moving in wide circles and other swirling around this way or that. A’viloh had never seen something like this and it looked strange and impossible but at the same time very beautiful to him.

The two of them had almost reached the lake by then, A’viloh a few steps ahead to get a better look at the wondrous people on the ice and he already wanted to ask how they did that, when his attention was drawn elsewhere by a curious squawking sound.

“Oh! Look at them!”, the Miqo’te exclaimed, his fascinated smile still turning a little brighter, as he gestured to a small flock of wild geese resting at the shore of the lake. With ruffled feathers they sat closely huddled together at the edge of the ice and suddenly A‘viloh couldn’t help but worry about them. They looked so unbothered by his presence, sleeping through the day and all the hubbub around them, looking all exhausted and frozen with their puffed up feathers. Like anything could happen to them and they wouldn’t even mind.

Strangely he wondered what he himself had looked like when Haurchefant had found him unconscious in the snow. He must have been a pitiful sight. Had the Elezen thought him beyond saving too, just like he himself had. What if he had found him a little later or not at all? Maybe that would have been better, a voice murmured to him just like it had so many times before and for a moment, tempted by the grief heavy on his heart once again, he almost believed it.

But no, he would be dead then and while he would have liked to imagine that this would mean he could be with his loved ones again, it was not exactly what either of the tribes he had lived with believed.

Vaguely he remembered his father working for hours, digging a grave at what used to be Wellwick Wood. An elderly woman too exhausted by their long journey, his grandmother if he remembered correctly, had died shortly after they had arrived there. With a sad smile on his face his father had explained to his children, who had stared down into the hole in the ground with confusion in their eyes, how by returning her body to the earth there could still grow new life from this death.

Or the drake tribe of the Sagolii Desert, who always burned their dead and left the ashes to be carried away by the desert wind, believing that it would make it easier for the deceased‘s aether to return to the Aetheric Sea and create something new elsewhere.

With a sudden sharp pain in his heart A’viloh realised that neither of the people he loved had gotten the burial they would have wanted for themselves. And neither had A‘viloh himself wanted to die in the coldness of Coerthas and be forever forgotten under a thick layer of snow and ice. He had thought about dying before but never had he been this close to it. For a second he wondered if this was something worth speaking to Rael about, but he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t misunderstand and get mad at him again.

“Why do you make such a sad face now?”, Haurchefant asked having noticed the smile slip from the Miqo’te’s face. But A’viloh just vehemently shook his head and focused on the geese again.

“They must be horribly cold.”, he wondered in a voice that suggested he already planned to take all of them to the safety of his comfortably warm room.

Haurchefant chuckled. “Don’t worry, they survived the storm out here after all. They keep each other warm, that’s why you‘ll rarely see one of them alone. A bit like you and your friends.”

“Maybe…”, A’viloh answered thinking about this comparison for a moment. “I just wish it wouldn’t always be me who needs to be taken care of. But as proven in Ul’dah and now once again I am simply too weak and useless to keep myself alive, not to mention anyone else.”

The Elezen’s face got a little stern as he folded his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t say that, I am sure it’s not true! This was just bad luck! You are neither weak nor useless!”

A’viloh shrugged. “But that’s how I feel right now...”

Slowly Haurchefant nodded before speaking again with a silent but determined voice. “Listen. I‘ll never forget how bravely you fought for Francel although you barely knew him. You could have gotten yourself in trouble with that and you helped him anyway.”

“It’s not like I did that on my own -”, A’viloh tried to protest but was immediately interrupted. “But you still helped! And I’m sure even without Rael you would have done so!”

Another shrug was all Haurchefant got in response, so the Elezen thought for a second before making an offer. “You want to make yourself useful, right? Get stronger? I could teach you how to fight like a real ishgardian knight, with sword and shield. Or we have some dragoons at Camp Dragonhead too! I’m sure there’s a lot you could learn from them.”

A‘viloh‘s face turned to disbelief. “I really don’t think I could fight with armor and weapons this heavy…”

“You can’t say so if you don’t try! And I have you know that dragoon armors are surprisingly light. How do you think they could still be this agile otherwise? Promise me to at least try training with them a little!”

He didn’t really want to agree to that. He knew he would make a fool of himself. But how could he say no with Haurchefant trying everything in his power to cheer him up. Weakly he shook his head and muttered: “Fine…”

“Perfect!”, Haurchefant exclaimed with a bright smile on his face. “I think an early reward for your efforts is appropriate then!”

Confused A’viloh watched him take a small bag off of his shoulders, which he hadn’t even noticed until now. For a moment the Elezen was busy undoing a knot before he opened the bag and presented to A‘viloh a set of two weirdly shaped blades attached to pieces of wood with leather straps. He had no idea what these constructs were meant to do and that was plainly visible on his face. “What’s that?”

“Ice skates of course!”, Haurchefant said as if that would explain it all but the Miqo’te‘s face remained clueless, so Haurchefant gestured to the lake behind them. “You attach them to your boots so you can walk on the ice like this!”

“Oh!”, A’viloh exclaimed as he understood what Haurchefant was planning. “I don’t think-… I mean I‘ve never-… You don’t really want me to step on that lake do you?” The idea somehow scared him.

“Why not?”, Haurchefant asked for the second time today with this smile that made the question sound like a challenge.

“It’s just a bit of ice!”, A‘vi objected. “What if it breaks?”

The Elezen shook his head and proceeded to fasten the metal blades beneath his boots. “Ah, don’t worry. The ice is thick enough, it will take at least a few more days to melt.”

“I don’t know…”, was all A’viloh replied as Haurchefant pressed another pair of skates into his hands. But the Elezen remained determined and took a few wobbly steps through the snow and onto the ice. “See! I can stand on it and it doesn’t break! You are a lot lighter than me, so why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Oh, you don’t know my bad luck!, A‘viloh thought but Haurchefant didn’t look like he would take that for an excuse. Instead he stretched out a hand towards the Miqo’te. “Come one! Believe me, this is going to be funny!”

For a second A‘viloh pondered his options. The idea of nothing but a little bit of ice between him and the water still terrified him but Haurchefant seemed so excited about this and the other people actually seemed to have fun too. Maybe he should at least pretend to try... Reluctantly he sat down on a rock and tried to put on the skates just like Haurchefant had done a moment ago.

“The clasp on the back too. Make sure none of them are loose… Yes, that looks fine!”, Haurchefant helpfully explained. As A’viloh got up, he almost flopped right back down into the snow. It was a weird feeling to balance his whole weight on only two thin pieces of metal. As he carefully took the first few steps towards the lake Haurchefant reached out for him once more. “Here! Take my hand! I don’t want you to fall…”

Hesitantly A‘vi stepped onto the ice and immediately felt like the ground was being pulled away beneath his feet. He struggled for balance, feeling himself falling backwards, so Haurchefants arm was a very welcome thing to hold on to.

With a chuckle the Elezen tried to loosen A‘vi‘s desperate grip on his arm and instead took each of his hand in one of his own before carefully making slow steps backwards pulling A‘viloh over the ice, which A’vi could swear was making suspicious crackling sounds below them. There was no way to tell the blades beneath his feet not to move, so all A’viloh could do was try not to fall and plead to Haurchefant with ears flat on his head and panic in his eyes, as he slowly was pulled further onto the lake. “No, no, no. Take me back, that’s a horrible idea!”

“Calm down. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”, Haurchefant said soothingly and continued to explain to him how to move on the ice skates. And in fact the Elezen’s calm voice slowly made A’viloh feel less anxious. His hands, frantically clasping at Haurchefant’s, relaxed along with his legs. It was still a weird feeling to be standing on the ice but now it felt a lot easier to remain balanced. He glanced at the people around them while remaining as still as possible, studied their movements for a moment and then tentatively tried to mimic the way they slowly pushed their feet above the slippery surface. To his surprise he really moved forward without much effort and also without feeling the sensation of falling again, closer to Haurchefant who had steadied him with his outstretched arms so far.

“See! It’s not that difficult.”, he said while making another step backwards so A’viloh had to follow with another step forward. The Miqo’te, strangely excited about the fact that he was actually moving on these weird ice-blades, laughed happily. “You are even going backwards!”

Haurchefants laughed. “One step after the other. Let’s teach you how to go forward first, hm? I‘ll let go off one of your hands but don’t worry, I still got you. One feet after the other just like you did before…”

In fact it almost felt easier now that he could use one of his arms to balance himself. Very slowly at first they floated above the icy surface of the lake but soon A‘viloh got braver. Once he almost lost his balance but for a comparably tall and strong person like Haurchefant it seemed like a very easy task to keep a small Miqo’te on his feet. Almost falling had felt like a shock for a second but only moments later they were laughing about it and in the end A’viloh was surprised and also a little proud how quickly he had learned and how much fun this was.

He wasn’t sure how much time they spent there on the frozen lake but at some point a bell sounded from the nearby Camp. Startled A’viloh looked up (and almost lost his balance again). “How late is it? I’m sure you have more important things to do than this! I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from doing your work.”

But Haurchefant just laughed and teased, “What could be more important than prove to you that not all of Coerthas is a deadly wasteland trying to kill you? But I think we really should return soon. I don’t want you to get cold again and after all we also don’t want Rael to find out about this little excursion, do we?”

For a second A’viloh wished the viera could see him now and wondered what their reaction would be like. The thought made him chuckle.

And as they floated, one last circle around the lake, A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder that maybe it was happy moments like this. The reason he was still here. Moments that made his life worth living.

---

inspired by the poem The Reversal by Leila Chatti