#anyway WHEW

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 1: Swooning, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Welcome back to whumptober yet again >:D I’m going to try and do all 31 days again, we’ll see if I can manage it!

Anyways, this got longer then I meant it to, but I had to corral the ending into something that made sense XD Enjoy!

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

“You find that key yet, Rancher?” a voice called from way off in the distance.

Twilight barked back a negative, and continued to sniff around for the key to the exit of the room the others were in. There’d been a spot only his wolf form could easily get to, and so he’d climbed up to it and crawled through, moving soft dirt with his paws until he’d entered into the more spacious area he was in now.

The room appeared to be circular, but there were several high walls he couldn’t see over so he couldn’t tell for sure. They were somewhat maze-like, and confusing in their layout, so Twilight was forced to rely on scent, searching for the metallic, and no-doubt rusty-smelling key.

He turned several corners, following a faint metallic smell he hoped was his objective. There wasn’t much in the maze apart from a few rats and the concerning remains of a skeleton, and Twilight padded cautiously on, perking up the moment the glint of a treasure chest finally caught his eye. He ran up to it, and transformed back into a Hylian, eagerly opening the chest.

A dark, shining key sat inside, just what he’d been looking for.

Twilight reached inside with a warm feeling of satisfaction, then heard a faint click as he lifted the key. A cloud of dark particles shot up from the chest, blowing right in Twilight’s face, and he gasped involuntarily, inhaling a good portion of it.

He began coughing as the dust coated his throat, the dust making him choke as he stumbled backwards. The cloud settled after a moment, but Twilight kept coughing out whatever he could, blinking tears from his eyes and wiping dust off his face.

He patted himself down, and looked around for any threat or danger to his person, but the room was as silent as it had been, and apart from the dryness of his throat, Twilight felt no ill effects.

Must have been an old boobytrap, he thought to himself, coughing a bit more as he pocketed the key and headed back the way he came. Arrows or something were probably supposed to fly out at my face... Whatever it was probably disintegrated because they were so old.

Twilight coughed again, and shook more dust out of his hair.

It’s a good thing I wasn’t here a few decades sooner.

Twilight made it back out of the maze and into the other room without further incident, though the skeleton tried to grab him as he walked by. He easily fought it off, and told the others about it with a laugh as they continued through the dungeon, and the strange black dust entirely fled his mind.

The dungeon was large, obviously some kind of fort once upon a time, but it had been long abandoned apart from the monsters who’d taken up residence inside. The heroes ran into a large group of them shortly, and they set to work, room echoing with shouts and screeches alike.

Twilight went for a troublesome-looking gibdo (one of Legend’s fortunately, apparently his didn’t scream), and began attacking, slicing at the strangely thick bandages.

Sky was fighting another one nearby, and a little further away Legend was yelling something as Wild shot several fire arrows. A group of the gibdos burst into flames, but Twilight tried to focus on his own battle, even as Legend yelled at Wild again.

The gibdo wasn’t fast, but it was sturdy, and it took a lot of time for Twilight to make any headway in hurting it. He jumped around to the back of it more than once, slicing in the same spot, and the gibdo finally seemed like it was flagging after several of the attacks.

It made a move for him, swiping at his middle, but Twilight took the opportunity to roll around and run it through with his sword, the monster letting out an odd moan before collapsing into dust.

Twilight glanced at where the gibdo had swiped at him, but his tunic wasn’t even ripped. Satisfied that he was fine, he jumped back into the fray, avoiding a stalfos that jumped at him and nearly sliced off his arm. Twilight immediately went on the attack, blocking another swipe with his shield, and lunging forward to swipe at the monster.

But the moment he stepped forward, a strange wave of something swept over him, making him stumble. He blinked dizzily, head lightly spinning, and looked around in confusion.

His head felt light, the battle around him fading at the edges, and he put a hand to his head, wondering what on earth was going on.

He felt almost as if he was suffering the effects of an injury, a knock to the head, blood loss or something similar, but that gibdo had barely touched him, why was he..?

Twilight stumbled as he avoided a swipe from the stalfos’s blade, clumsily blocking it with his shield. The crash of the weapon hitting it made him wince, and he desperately tried to gather his wits about him so he could fight back.

What was going on here?

Twilight tried to go on the offensive, swinging his sword, but somehow he missed the stalfos entirely. The lack of resistance made him stumble, and the stalfos let out a strange clattering cackle as it swung at him again, red eyes blurring in Twilight’s vision.

A glowing blade suddenly entered his sight, and Twilight watched as Sky swiped straight through the stalfos that had been hedging him, the bones falling to pieces. The room was suddenly a lot quieter, and Twilight distantly realized that that must have been the last monster.

“Twilight, are you okay? That thing nearly got you!” Sky said with a smile, his voice only mildly worried as he sheathed his sword.

Twilight gave him a nod, blinking as he tried to make the room quit swimming around him. It refused to stop though, and Sky’s expression turned more truly concerned.

“Twilight? Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m... I’m fine,” he said a little shakily, resting a hand on his head. “Think I... just...”

He coughed, black flecks falling on his hand, and his mind abruptly flashed back to the dust in the treasure chest.

...perhaps the boobytrap hadn’t been as ruined as he’d thought.

Sky’s eyes went wide, and the room suddenly lurched, shaking and wavering all around. Twilight heard a shout, but it was muffled and strange, and didn’t make any sense to his ears.

He couldn’t hold his weight any longer, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head as his legs gave out.

(...)

Something shook him, a bit frantically, and Twilight sluggishly came back to awareness.

He blinked his eyes open, and bit back a groan as he closed them again, his vision swirling and rolling around. Something was shaking him again, but Twilight didn’t reopen his eyes, afraid he would throw up if he did.

“Rancher, open your eyes, come on.”

Twilight reluctantly cracked them open, several things moving above him in dizzying color.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” the same voice asked him, and Twilight blinked, trying to focus on the things in his vision that kept blurring in and out of focus.

“Quit movin’ th’m,” he mumbled, and more voices echoed above him, making him only feel more dizzy as he tried to listen to them.

“Concussion you think?”

“He didn’t hit his head, there’s no injuries there I can find.”

“Well what’s wrong with him then?!”

“Has he had anything to eat today?”

“Probably needs a bath, he’s filthy.”

“Don’t be stupid, that wouldn’t make him faint!”

Twilight’s breath caught funny in his chest, and he coughed again, a sharp wave of vertigo hitting as someone sat him up. A groan escaped his lips, and a hand gently turned his head.

“Twilight, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Twilight blinked hazily, trying to focus on whoever was talking to him, but his vision refused to do what he wanted it to, and his dizziness grew to an excruciating degree.

He let out a whimper, uncertain of what was going on, and felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest, intense and painful. It spread through his body like liquid fire, and he cried out, moving suddenly agonizing.

“Twilight!”

The hand was back and frantically patting his cheek, and something moved in front of him again, but all Twilight could do was focus on the dizziness and pain that was demanding all of his attention.

“Twilight, please, focus, do you know what happened?”

Twilight breathed in shakily, tensing as another wave of pain ripped through him. He had to tell them what was wrong, he had to warn them in case there was more of the dust, in case it hurt one of them— but all he could do was try not to scream.

“Twilight?”

Twilight squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them, trying to meet whoever was in front of him’s eyes.

“Th... dust...” he moaned, voice barely more then a whisper, “brea... thed...”

His breath caught with pain, and Twilight heard someone shout as the dizziness overcame him again, darkness washing over his vision.

(...)

When Twilight woke back up, he was being held between two people, arms over their shoulders.

He blinked dizzily, and saw stone under his feet, moving slowly as he was carried forward. We must still be in the dungeon.

Another wave of that strange fiery pain ripped through him, and Twilight gasped, making whoever was holding him startle.

“He’s awake!”

Footsteps clattered on the stone, and hands poked at him, lightly holding up his chin.

“Rancher? How are you feeling?”

Twilight couldn’t manage anything more then a groan, and something gently ran through his hair.

“Okay, that’s alright, you’re going to be fine. Can you drink something for us? Warriors thinks a potion will help.”

Twilight mumbled something he hoped was a good enough reply, and something cool was pressed to his lips. Sweetness hit his tongue as it was tilted back, and Twilight drank, waiting for the potion to kick in.

The very beginnings of warmth began to settle in his chest, but then his stomach lurched, and he jerked forward, coughing up the healing draught and gagging at the taste of it coming back up. It felt weirdly dry as well, nearly making him choke, and Twilight felt the arms come up to prop him into a slightly different position.

“Easy Rancher...”

“Should we give him another?”

“He won’t be able to keep it down, not with the way he’s acting.”

“Well now what?!”

“...Guys? He’s... not just throwing up potion.”

The room went oddly quiet, apart from Twilight’s harsh breathing, his stomach and head now swirling with nausea. He’d finished throwing up, but now his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He coughed something out, and there was a hand on his cheek again, holding him steady.

“Four said he mentioned breathing in dust earlier... do you think that’s what he meant?”

“I don’t see what else he could have meant.”

“So the dust is making him like this... we just gotta get it out somehow!”

Twilight moaned as his head swirled, and something touched him, gently rubbing his shoulder as his awareness started to fade again.

“Don’t worry Twi, we’ll fix this. Just hold on.”

(...)

Twilight came to with a jolt the next time, something forcing his mouth open, air being pulled through his lips.

He heaved in a gasp, and hands moved to hold him down, voices talking far above his head and the ground rolling up and down under his back. He tried to struggle, but the hands were firm, and something brushed through his hair as he tried to drag in another gasp.

“I’m so sorry Twilight, but this’ll help, try and stay still.”

The wind increased in its intensity, and Twilight felt like every bit of air was being sucked from inside him, leaving him unable to breath, unable to fight, to get away they were holding him down—

A sob choked from his throat, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop them from doing whatever it was they were doing and it made him feel sick. What felt like sand fell down his cheeks, and he let out a breathless scream as the air continued to be pulled from him, the fire in his limbs blazing, his head swirling.

There was more talking but Twilight couldn’t focus on any of it, his world narrowed down to pain and wind and a scratchy feeling in his throat and lungs and all over inside of him.

It hurt.

He still couldn’t breathe, no matter how he thrashed or cried out and the pain was so intense and thick that the darkness soon dragged him under yet again.

(...)

A hand was brushing through his hair, teasing out knots, gentle in its motions.

Twilight didn’t do anything but focus on it for a minute, the touch soothing and calm. Then he realized just how dry his throat felt, his insides hollow, and he let out a breathy moan, trying to open his eyes.

“Whoa, easy,” someone said, and Twilight finally dragged his eyes open, pleasantly surprised when his vision didn’t smear. He was able to look to the side and meet who turned out to be Four’s eyes without any swirling spots or fire in his chest, and he felt a spark of equal relief and confusion.

“...’thy?” he rasped, and Four nodded, looking pleased.

“Hey, he’s awake!” another voice said, and Sky leaned over into Twilight’s vision. He looked tired, but there was a smile on his face. “Good to see you up, Rancher.”

“Oh thank Hylia,” another voice gasped, and Wild appeared in his vision as well, looking utterly relieved. “We weren’t sure if that was going to work or not.”

“If what w...work..?” Twilight croaked, and Sky, Four, and Wild all looked at each other.

“We had to get the dust out somehow,” Four said quietly, guilt thick in his voice. “I figured since you inhaled it... sucking it out would be our best bet.”

“Four has an item that worked rather well,” Sky said, though his smile had grown tight. “We weren’t sure at first if it had helped, but... well, we’re glad you’re all right, Rancher.”

Twilight blinked, and looked between the three. He was having some trouble following exactly what was being said, he felt sore and tired, and a bit like a paper straw someone had sucked air through a few too many times, but even he could tell that Four felt awful.

And sure, he didn’t quite know why, or remember exactly what had happened, but Four had helped him, and that was enough for Twilight.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and worked past the bit of dizziness still in his head to reach over and pat Four’s hand. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t manage anything further, but it seemed like it was enough. Four took his hand in his and gave it a squeeze, and Twilight dredged up a smile.

“Screw dungeons,” Wild muttered fiercely, and went back to playing with Twilight’s hair. “They’re stupid and they suck.”

Twilight barked out a laugh, wheezy and uncomfortable, but it was worth it seeing the relieved looks that were exchanged above him.

“Agree. Screw ‘em,” he croaked.

[biitchcakes]

DEATH && RESURRECTION .

Jessica has taken trips to the afterlife and returned multiple times — a total of FOUR, in fact. Below the cut are the details and visuals for her deaths and revivals.

Death No. 1 ─────

Jessica goes to fight Morgan Le Fay on the Astral Plane. When she goes to return to her body, however. . .

She's already dead.

Her final request is for Magnus, her sorcerer companion, to cast a spell allowing her friends — everyone — to forget who she is. To make it like she never existed at all. Then, with some final sanguine words, she's off into the afterlife. ( Spider-Woman 1978 / Issue 50 . )

Resurrection No. 1 ─────

Lucky for Jessica, the spell doesn't entirely work.

Tigra and The Shroud save her, rush her to the hospital and summon a handful of Avengers to solve the mystery of Jessica Drew. To fully save her life. Dr. Strange and Hank Pym arrive later to use their specific skills.

"Your close friends remembered almost instantly."

As her astral soul returns to its corporal form, Morgan Le Fay puts a stop to it, forcing the Avengers to battle for Jessica's life on this supernatural plane of existence.

Naturally, they succeed.

However, it seems the cost of coming back to life were her Spider Abilities, now left powerless. Or so she thinks, anyway. ( Avengers 1963 / Issue 240 & 241 . )

Death No. 2 ─────

In an attempt to save the world from The Beyonder, Jessica willingly offers her life force to Rachel Summers — The Phoenix.

Resurrection No. 2 ─────

But, ultimately, Rachel cannot morally take their lives, restoring the life essences back into their rightful bodies. ( Uncanny X-Men / Issue 203 . )

Death & Resurrection No. 3 ─────

The Secret Wars explosion. Rip, a bunch of people die here, it's a bad time. But, everyone also comes back !

Death No. 4 ─────

:(

Spider-Verse Bullshit™️ is going on. The Inheritors are back, and in the middle of fighting them, Spider-Noir appears out of nowhere and stabs Jessica — severing her from the Web of Life. ( Spider-Man 2022 / Issue 1 . )

Resurrection No. 4 ─────

Gets brought back to life with an ancient artefact because she's a damn Spider Totemic Avatar. (Actually makes me A Little Emo, the "each and every way the threads of her life have woven into yours ! " ngl.) ( Spider-Man 2022 / Issue 7 . )

[recareels]

What do the genshin men (ajax, thoma and ayato and alhaitham) feel towards the reader? Do they all think they are in love?? Somehow I cant picture ayato in love, it feels more like how much he likes the power he holds over both thoma and reader. Ajax feels like a puppy overflowing with love and lust, obsession and passion...and somehow alhaitham seems like the most normal one hahahaa what do you think??

omg anon IN LOVE with this question!!!!!! beware, i rambled a LOT beneath the cut!! <3

so for the most part, i agree with you! i do think ayato is capable of being in love but it definitely isn’t healthy or ‘real’ love and it absolutely comes from a place of power, control, and ownership. i was talking to my best friend about this not too long ago and was saying that irl i don’t think ayato and i would get along because to me, he would want a precious, obedient, submissive little thing that’s going to almost always be good for him and dote on him, that absolutely lives to please him and do exactly as he says because they find their primary worth and validation in being good for him—he is such a busy man with so much resting on his shoulders that the last thing he wants to come home to is a serious brat (me). i, on the other hand, would act out because he’s been gone *all day* and i want attention, and i just don’t think he would want to deal with that at all. i think he can handle a very slight brattiness, just to keep things fun and interesting, but anything more serious than that and he’s throwing u out.

(and then with thoma, i see him as a service dom/switch. he aims to please, and he enjoys pleasing his baby (and ayato). he likes to be told what to do and how to do it, and he finds a lot of validation in serving others/caring for others).

ajax my beloved!!!!!!!! YES YES YES one hundred million percent yes anon!! like i said, i personally feel like he has these borderline yandere tendencies. he’s possessive, protective, obsessive, and extremely clingy. but his love is fierce and real and absolutely smothering. when he loves, he loves HARD, he loves forever. he’s extremely committed to you and he is willing to fall on his sword for you in an instant. BUT he expects you to feel the same way. he expects you to love him back just as fiercely and he expects you to submit to him completely and wholly. he sees you as his most prized possession, and he fully intends to treat you like the royalty you are (whether you like it or not). he believes it’s his job to protect and support you and he takes this incredibly seriously.

alhaitham i could write you an entire paper on to be honest!!!! he’s really interesting. i think that it’s difficult to genuinely catch his attention but when he does fall in love with you, you have him for life. i agree that his love would be the most healthy/normal out of the four. i think he enjoys taking care of (and being smarter than and teaching) you to some extent; he likes that power and control, and i hc him to genuinely enjoy teaching others as well, one of those types that just loves to whip out their impressive breadth of knowledge—a vast collection of carefully curated facts and pieces of information—and show off. so he would enjoy teaching you new things and/or about topics you are not knowledgeable on, relishing in the way your eyes sparkle at how intelligent he is, secretly basking in the praise and the adoration—the only hints he likes it at all being the slight quirking up at the corners of his lips and the way his gaze softens and shimmers, the way his voice is suddenly dusted with icing sugar; tender, sweet—and he would enjoy learning new things from you, too!

with that being said, he is not here to lead you (like ayato would), he is here to guide you, to journey with you, and be just a teensy bit smarter, stronger, wiser, and better than you (leading requires way too much responsibility and, as we all know, the man is not about that. he doesn’t ever want to be bogged down with obligations and duties in that sense! they get in the way of his own endless pursuits of knowledge, and hinder his spontaneity). he isn’t looking for a pet to own, he’s looking for a genuine partner. this is why i think he’d be such a great daddy dom!!! he genuinely wants the best for you and genuinely wants you to keep improving yourself, while also being able to enjoy being the superior, the one in charge, the one calling the shots.

[bed-of-ashes]

as an aroace person who sees other aspec people get frustrated with the lack of nonromantic relationships being represented as anything other than sibling, I grant you: hermit relationships

Grian & Pearl: siblings, actually

Pearl & Scott: platonic

Cleo & Scott: queerplatonic

Jimmy & Tango: romantic

Grian & Scar: sexual but like they turned Complicated pretty fast lets be real

Pearl & Gem: ????)?),?

Etho & Joel: probably a disorder really

Martyn & Ren: theater kids.

[sandflakedraws]

hug time 🌺

[am-iaou]

care for a Toulousian Miku ? 🌸

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: Part Two

-> Part 1

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

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[kyurochurro]

they did the monster mash!! 😳 🎃it was a graveyard smash!! 🦇👻

[kittysawat]

if you cant get an organic s2 wedding, then store bought is just fine!!!!!!!!

[dilutedbeanibeans]

hey I redesigned them again

close ups under the cut

boy why are you so eyelash

[wrenkos]

perfect crime trio goes on an outing

[sabreurs]

okay i think i've got it. instead of running from his role, aang feels like he's failing at his role. no decision he makes is the right decision. the decision to take a break on appa meant that he wasn't there to help the air nomads. the decision to research on kyoshi island brought the fire nation there. the decision to be close to his friends got them stuck in the spirit world. he looks at the ruins of the northern water tribe and says "i did this." everything he does feels like a failure bc of the first failure. so aang has to let go of his past failures so he can start succeeding in the future. his journey isn't learning how to stand his ground, it's how to let go.

[recareels]

just had to upload something to sharepoint for work and i kid you not i nearly uploaded reca’s light cone by mistake

[toodrunktofindaurl]

silent caretaker

[esprei]

Emmet month - Day 4: Memories

though Ingo may be gone, he'll never be forgotten

[basilone]

MASTERS OF THE AIR - in every episode: the sky