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steddiehyperfixation · 6 months

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don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay.

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway.

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks.

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.”

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief.

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees.

Steve asks, “How much time?”

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.”

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough.

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids.

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did.

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.”

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.”

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond.

“And us,” Erica adds as well.

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.”

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him.

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?”

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally.

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.”

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.”

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital.

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them.

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.”

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.”

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.”

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...”

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase.

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon.

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.”

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.”

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.”

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children.

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.”

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him.

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!”

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.”

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!”

“So you guys joined the club, then?”

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed.

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?”

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.”

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says.

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.”

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.”

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.”

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.”

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

#still angsty sorry #we're getting there tho! this will have a happy ending eventually! i promise!#i finally get what ppl mean when they talk abt setting out to write a oneshot and ending up with a longfic bc it's happening to me rn #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #1k #dyfamsteddiefic #<- specific tag for this fic

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choccy-milky · 11 days

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🔞NSFW comic🔞

just seb being insatiable when it comes to clora 😇 refractory period?? whats that?? never heard of it

[ TWITTER ]

[ POIPIKU ] and a lil extra doodle:

(aka seb and clora if contraceptive potions didnt exist LMAO.... girl would just be preggo 24/7)

#its funny bc seb and clora are only gonna have 2 kids but oh boy.. this is an alternate reality of what would have been LMAO. pray for her #also speaking of them having babies i finally designed their 2 kids that im happy with ill post em soon #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy smut #wanted to finish this and post it before i went to my moms LMAOOO nothing makes u feel more like a degenerate than drawing smut at ur fams #also if ur still reading the tags and uve also been wondering about a new chapter SOON i promise ive written 13k so far #so i might just post what i have very soon or ill try to get to where i originally planned to end it/get to like 20k as usual LOL #clora clemons #choccyart

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heymacy · 1 month

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IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

#happy world bipolar day to all my bp babies #(more thoughts at the end of the tags)#shameless #shamelessnet #shamelessedit #ian gallagher #cameron monaghan #*macygifs #bipolar disorder #hello pals how are we doin #i made this gif set in july of 2023 and never posted it because 1) i was terrified to share it and potentially see Bad Takes in the tags #and 2) because my hyperfixation was waning. and while both of those things are still mostly true (the fixation comes and goes)#i feel like it's really important to share as ian's bipolar storyline was not only so vital to his character it was a bit of representation #that isn't often given to the disorder and those (like myself) who live with it every single day #world bipolar day is a day where we can both celebrate ourselves and our resilience and also raise awareness of the reality of the disorder #which is both terrifying and beautiful at its core. this disease is not a death sentence or a sentence to an unfulfilled and miserable life #while there are challenges galore when it comes to balancing life with this disorder it IS possible to live a full and productive life #and i think it's really important to have representation of that in media - and while shameless dropped the ball on a LOT of storylines #over the years THIS is the one they really fucking nailed and i am incredibly grateful #i first started watching shameless while in the midst of a major depressive episode and i was later (finally) diagnosed during an extended #hypo/manic episode - this show and ian's storyline got me through so much and made me feel so seen and validated in my struggles #world bipolar day is also vincent van gogh's birthday (happy birthday buddy) who was posthumously diagnosed with bipolar disorder #and who experienced both depressive and hypo/manic episodes during his lifetime (and was regularly institutionalized)#it takes a lot of help and support to keep us going. it takes the support of our family and friends and *most* of all #it takes patience and kindness and understanding - which is so so so easy to give if you are willing to love and listen #so please. be willing. listen to our stories. be patient with us. show us love without conditions. support us in any way you can.#we are worth it #i promise #anyway. that's really all i wanted to say. happy world bipolar day to those who celebrate (me) and may all of us living with this disorder #go on to live happy fulfilling beautiful magical lives

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luxtoony · 1 year

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S..so.. 👉👈 @somerandomdudelmao

I really didn't want my first fanart for Cass series to be angst but my hand didn't listen. The pose and atmosphere was so cool, I couldn't resist :(

Me showing up to my college after another (very very and that's two very's) late night dedicated to turtles.

(sorry for reposting but tumblr pranks me as always)

#cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt movie #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt casey jr #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanart #well technically it's just colouring #I will make proper fanart later #why does this fandom have so many amazing creators?#anyway I love angst but Cass #*grabs your shoulders*#don't play with me I beg of ye #this shit better have the comfort happy ending you promised #jk You do what you want and we will eat this shit up #luxtoony #my art #well my colouring

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solarmorrigan · 3 months

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Hands Where I Can See Them, part 8

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Ao3

My unending gratitude to @azure7539arts for talking through this chapter and the next one with me, and helping to untangle all my thoughts!

Eddie spends the next week walking on air. He thinks that if his younger self could see him now, just smiling at random throughout the day, practically mooning over a boy—over Steve Harrington—he’d be horrified, but Eddie absolutely does not give a shit.

He’s happy. He’s hopeful.

He has no idea what the etiquette is for calling someone after a date, if there’s a certain amount of time that you’re supposed to wait so that you don’t seem like a desperate loser, but he figures he wouldn’t adhere to it even if he did know the rule. He calls Steve the very next day and they talk for an hour.

He calls the next day, pushing his luck just a little, but Steve is on his way out the door to work and only has a few minutes of time to spare for Eddie.

A couple of days later, Steve reaches out to him, calling the trailer and this time catching Eddie on the wrong side of a shift. Eddie is tempted to say “fuck it” and just be late to work, but, employing a strength of will he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he recognizes that getting fired wouldn’t help anything. He promises to call Steve back, and he’s at the phone almost as soon as he’s gotten through the door after work that evening.

“So,” Eddie drawls into the phone between hasty bites of a peanut butter sandwich he’d slapped together before calling, trying not to chew in Steve’s ear, “not that playing phone tag with you isn’t fun, but do you think I could see you again?”

“You mean like a date?” Steve teases.

“Exactly like a date,” Eddie replies, not even bothering to quash his smile.

He thinks he can hear Steve’s own smile when he answers, “I’d like that. And I’m actually free this Friday, if you wanted to take advantage of that.”

“Perfect. Why don’t we meet here, at my place?” Eddie offers, and Steve gives a little laugh.

“What happened to waiting until the third date?” he asks. “Trying to seduce me into your bed already?”

“While you are very much worthy of seducing, I’m afraid I have different plans for the evening,” Eddie says. “So, meet me here? About six?”

“Sure, Eddie,” Steve agrees, voice still warm with mirth. “I’ll be there.”

And so, Friday evening finds Eddie on the front steps of his trailer, eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet and watching as Steve pulls up in front. He doesn’t even wait for Steve to fully exit his car before he’s crossing the distance with a few long strides; the moment Steve has straightened up and shut the door, Eddie is right there, leaning into his space the way he hasn’t been able to in what feels like too long.

He’d like to drape himself over Steve’s back, wrap his arms around his waist, casual and easy like it had been before, but, apart from being in public, Eddie doesn’t want to push Steve too far. He keeps a small cushion of air between them instead, and leans up to murmur in Steve’s ear, “Goooood evening, sweetheart.”

Steve laughs, nudging Eddie back with his elbow, but the fond look on his face says it’s not because he wants Eddie away from him so much as he just wants a little room to move. “You’re excited tonight,” he says, still smiling as he turns around.

“Any night I get to see you is a very exciting night, indeed,” Eddie declares, just a little theatrical about it, grinning as Steve cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” He’s trying to sound unimpressed, but Eddie clocks the pleased, pink flush starting to gather at the tops of his cheeks.

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s true and I’ll say it. Now c’mon.”

Eddie waves for Steve to follow as he sets off walking towards the entrance to Forest Hills, and Steve glances, confused, between Eddie and the trailer.

“We’re not staying here?”

“Nope,” Eddie says again. He keeps walking and, as expected, Steve heaves a sigh and jogs to catch up.

“Then why did you tell me to meet you here?” he asks, falling in step with Eddie.

“Because, I wanted it to be a–”

“–surprise,” Steve finishes in tandem with him, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you liked the last one, didn’t you?” Eddie asks, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Steve’s.

Biting his lip around a smile, Steve glances over at Eddie. “Yeah,” he admits, bumping Eddie’s shoulder back. “Yeah, I did.”

“Then hold onto a little of that faith,” Eddie says.

“I’d have a little more faith if you’d told me we’d be outside again,” Steve grumbles, mostly for show. “I would’ve brought a heavier jacket, it’s almost November.”

“Steve, you run like a furnace,” Eddie deadpans. “Besides, it’s actually nice out. We should enjoy the last of it before winter descends and we spend the next four months freezing our asses off.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve got on two jackets,” Steve says, nodding towards the battle jacket Eddie has pulled on over his leather one.

“Are you actually cold, or do you just feel like complaining?” Eddie asks.

Steve shoots him a look. “You’ll know when I’m cold.”

Smirking, Eddie shakes his head. “I’m sure I will,” he says. “But we’re not going to be out here long enough for you to freeze your precious bits off, anyway – we’re just about there.”

“We are?” Steve glances around, confused, and Eddie doesn’t blame him; there really isn’t much in this direction until you hit town, which is a longer walk than just ten minutes.

In fact, the only thing around is just coming into view as the trees fall away and a stretch of cleared land begins at the roadside.

“Here we are!” Eddie declares, taking a turn and ambling into the cracked and pitted parking lot of the diner.

“You… brought us here,” Steve doesn’t quite ask. “To the diner?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Eddie reaches out and takes Steve by the hand, tugging him along until they get close enough to the building that he has to drop it again.

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the diner since Steve brought it up last weekend – specifically, that night at the diner.

The more he dwells on it, the more he feels cheated, in a way; like he’d robbed himself of the opportunity to experience his time with Steve the way Steve himself had seen it. And the way Steve had described that night, so full of warmth and potential – Eddie wants that. He wants to see it that way, too.

“I figured we haven’t been here since– well, we haven’t been here in a while. At least, I haven’t. I don’t know if you…?” Eddie glances at Steve for confirmation as they walk through the door, and Steve just shakes his head, brows furrowed. “And I also thought, y’know, it might be nice. If we could both look at a time here as special.”

The frown on Steve’s face doesn’t clear up at that, much to Eddie’s disappointment. He doesn’t look displeased, exactly, but he also sure as hell isn’t giving Eddie that same smile he’d given him last weekend.

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a voice cuts across the noise of the diner, sharp and pleased.

“Boys!” Both Eddie and Steve look up to see Dottie heading towards them with a smile.

If they have anything like a regular waitress at the diner, it’s Dottie – a woman at least in her late fifties with curly hair dyed a violent ginger-red, bejeweled cat’s eye glasses, and heavy, colorful eyeshadow that never seems to dare smudge past her lids. She loves nothing more than trying to feed the both of them until they pop, as far as Eddie can tell, and she always snaps them up when they visit on her shift.

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me. Maybe found some fancier establishment to take your business to,” she says as she reaches the front.

“Are you kidding, Dottie?” Steve asks, suddenly all charm and earnest smiles, his previous mood apparently forgotten. “We wouldn’t go anywhere else. You can’t beat the service here.”

Dottie rolls her eyes, but gives Steve a pleased smile and a pat on the cheek. She grabs two menus and leads them back to a corner booth, past handfuls of regulars, families out for dinner with their kids, and groups of teenagers milking a single order of fries for as long as it will get them a table.

“So where did you two go?” She drops the menus on the table and moves to the side as Eddie and Steve settle in. “Seems like you dropped off the face of the Earth for weeks.”

“Uh… we were just taking a bit of a break,” Eddie says, at the same time Steve tells her, “We were busy.”

Glancing between the two of them, Dottie gives a slow nod. “Uh huh. Well, it’s nice to see you back from your busy break. Two Cokes?”

“You know us so well, Dottie,” Eddie sighs, batting his eyelashes up at her, which earns him an eyeroll and a pat on the cheek, too, before Dottie walks off the get their drinks.

When Eddie looks back over, Steve is looking down, studying the menu even though they both have their favorites memorized by now.

“Is… everything okay?” Eddie asks, sliding his own menu over just for something to do with his hands.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Steve says, and he almost sounds convincing – Eddie might really have believed him if he’d actually looked up at Eddie when he said it.

Eddie sighs, glancing over the laminated plastic pictures of burgers and pancakes, trying to decide what he’s in the mood for.

“Look, I just thought since we haven’t been here in a while, it’d be nice,” he says finally, voice pitched low, so it doesn’t carry past their table. “I know it’s not a candlelit dinner in the park, or whatever–”

“That’s not it,” Steve cuts in. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just– it’s fine.”

Anything Eddie might have come up with to say to that is cut off by Dottie’s reappearance with their drinks.

“You boys ready to order?” she asks, pulling her order pad out and holding her pen at the ready.

“Yeah?” Steve half-asks, glancing up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, and Eddie can’t see anything there but the question of whether or not he’s ready, so he nods, and Steve looks back to Dottie. “Yeah. Can I get a patty melt, please? And fries.”

“You got it,” Dottie scribbles his order down and looks to Eddie, who teeters on the edge of getting a waffle before deciding on the club sandwich and his own order of fries (he’s not entirely sure how well Steve will tolerate his being stolen tonight). “Alright, I’ll get those in for you. Wave me down if you need anything, alright?”

They thank her and she sashays off again, leaving Steve and Eddie to themselves.

The quiet that falls over them isn’t comfortable. It isn’t like the contentment of simply sitting in one another’s company that they used to have, nor even a natural pause in conversation like they’d had at dinner last week; it’s simply an awkward lack of knowing what to say, how to keep things rolling.

Something is off with Steve, but he refuses to say what, and Eddie is desperate to distract from it. He reaches for the first thing he can think of.

“So I didn’t know you and Jeff were, like… friends,” he ventures, thinking back to the way they’d acted familiarly around one another on Eddie’s last visit to the video store.

Steve looks up at him, face scrunched a bit in confusion, and Eddie rushes to clarify.

“I mean, not that I thought you disliked each other, I just didn’t know you were hanging out.”

Wait, no, now it sounds like Eddie is jealous, like he’s trying to keep tabs on Steve, who is still staring at him like he’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about.

“Not that you can’t hang out! That’s fine, I just – thought maybe that was a recent development.” Eddie bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying very hard to shut up.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve finally says. “I ran into him at Melvald’s one night a couple of weeks ago and he invited me to come over to watch a game sometime, since we weren’t really seeing each other at… the usual places anymore.”

“Ah. Right. Right.” Eddie nods. “You know, you… could come to the usual places, if you wanted to. You’re always welcome. In fact, I think your presence as a spectator at Hellfire meetings has been sorely missed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve nods, but he sounds distant about it at best.

“Did you wanna know what you’ve missed so far? I know we were kind of in the middle of the adventure when we, uh–” Eddie shrugs. “You always say you like hearing the story.”

“Henderson’s been telling me,” Steve says shortly. He grabs his soda to take a sip, but now he actively seems irritated.

Eddie does his best to tamp down his frustration. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong; he has no idea where the night went south, but he’s hopeful he can salvage it.

They sit for a little while longer in mostly awkward silence. Steve folds his paper straw wrapper over and over on itself until it’s a tight little square, then drops it on the table and watches it expand in a little puddle of condensation from his glass. He asks how Wayne is doing. Eddie tries to return the favor, before realizing that the only people in Steve’s life that he doesn’t regularly see are his parents (off-limits if he wants Steve in a better mood) and Robin (who may or may not still want to kill Eddie). He glances around the diner instead, and perks up when his attention lights on the back wall.

“Hey, you got any dimes?” he asks Steve, who sits up a little at the unexpected question.

“Maybe?” he says, shifting in his seat so he can reach into his pocket. “Why?”

Eddie jams his own hand down into his pocket and emerges victorious with a small handful of change. “Never mind, I’ve got some. Be right back.”

He hops out of the booth and heads towards the back, where the behemoth of a jukebox squats, waiting to be fed coins and spit out songs that no one even remembers.

Steve had been right when he’d said most of the music sucks; there isn’t anything more recent than mid-70s, and almost nothing in there had ever been what you would call a chart-topper. Sometimes Eddie and Steve waste their spare change having a contest over who can find the worst song to play, until the waitresses start glaring at them and they slink guiltily back to their table.

This time, though, Eddie flips through for one of the few good songs he knows is in there. He clicks to make his selection and grins as the quick-paced strum of a guitar pours out of the speakers, followed by the crooning of none other than Elvis Presley.

You can always count on The King to pick things up.

“There we go,” Eddie says as he returns to the booth. “Had to set the mood.”

Or maybe you can’t always count on The King, because Steve actually looks kind of pissed.

“What is it?” Eddie asks, any confidence the music had given him draining away.

Steve stares at him for a moment longer, unnervingly intense, before he blinks and looks away. “Nothing. It’s– never mind.”

“No, what’s–”

“Here we are,” Dottie announces, appearing at the side of their table with plates in hand. “Patty melt for Steve, club for Eddie, ketchup for your fries. How’s that look?”

“It looks great, thanks,” Steve says, smiling up at Dottie as though he hadn’t just been glaring offended daggers at Eddie; he’s always been good at that in a way Eddie hates – putting on that shallow, easy-going mask at the drop of a hat.

“Anything else I can bring for you?” Dottie asks.

Eddie is about to say no when he scans the table and realizes the one thing he’d forgotten. “Oh, actually – could I order a vanilla shake, too?”

And that is apparently the wrong thing to say.

Steve’s smile falls away, and he’s giving Eddie a look that sits somewhere between angry and hurt that Eddie doesn’t fucking understand.

“Actually,” Steve says sharply, “I just realized that I have to go. I’m – there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be, sorry.”

He slides out of the booth around a shocked Dottie and pulls enough money from his wallet to cover his meal and a tip, pressing it into her hand before turning to leave.

“Honey, did you want a box for all this?” Dottie asks, helplessly gesturing towards his untouched meal.

“No, I – sorry, I just have to go,” Steve says, already halfway to the door.

“Shit,” Eddie swears lowly, shimmying out of the booth to give chase.

“Eddie!” Dottie calls out sharply, gesturing to his untouched meal when he turns back to look at her.

“I’m not – I’m not leaving, I swear, I’ll be right back, I just have to–” He glances up frantically when he hears the bell over the door jingle, signifying that Steve is slipping away. “I just have to– Steve. I need to– I will be right back.”

Dottie sighs and nods, and Eddie is off like a shot. He catches up to Steve at the end of the parking lot, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s shoulder when he doesn’t respond to Eddie’s calls.

“Let me go,” Steve snaps, jerking out from under Eddie’s touch, but Eddie isn’t deterred this time, grabbing Steve around the arm and halting him in his tracks.

“No. Not until you tell me what the fuck I did to piss you off!” Eddie says.

Steve wheels around, shooting an incredulous look at him. “Seriously? I have to tell you?” he demands. “How could you think that any of that was okay?”

“I don’t– You like the diner! Or you did!” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to know you suddenly hate it there?”

“It’s not the diner,” Steve huffs, and Eddie finally lets him go, if only to throw his hands up in the air, trying to toss some of his frustration off.

“Then what? I’m not psychic, Steve! How am I supposed to fix my mistakes if you won’t even tell me when I’m upsetting you?”

“You can’t just rewrite the past, Eddie!” The look on Steve’s face is thunderous, until it slides away like he’s too tired to keep it up, exhaustion following in its wake. “You can’t just – you can’t.”

The chill Eddie feels has absolutely nothing to do with crisp October night that had descended while they were inside. “What? No, Steve, that’s not what I was trying to do. Why would I–”

“So what, then? I tell you about the night I thought of as our first date and you decide to just throw it back in my face? Show me what it could have been if you’d just fucking looked at me?” Steve asks.

And suddenly it clicks – everything Eddie had done tonight, almost beat for beat, entirely unintentionally, had damned him.

Maybe if he’d waited a while between Steve’s confession and his decision to take them to the diner, it might have been okay, but for a musician, Eddie’s timing had sucked.

“No, that’s not what this was,” Eddie insists. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then we’re back to you just trying to– to fucking recreate something we already did, so you can try to make it better!” Steve says.

In his floundering, a little of Eddie’s frustration boils over. “Well you’re the one who said you wanted to just go back to doing what we were doing!”

“I also said I wanted to go forward with more awareness! Not go back and do the same shit over again!” Steve snaps. “I’ve spent the last few weeks just– going over and over everything we did together, looking at everywhere I fucked up, everywhere I misinterpreted you, realizing that everything I was looking at as us wasn’t– it wasn’t the same for you. And I was getting used to that, I was… making my peace, or whatever, thinking we’d just move on, and then you go and– and do this.”

“I–” Any of Eddie’s frustration, any anger, it all dries up, leaving behind a cold, rasping desperation. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve opens his mouth, but the sound of the bell over the diner’s door sounds off again, and another man’s stern voice cuts into the silence.

“Young man, you need to come pay your bill.”

“Oh, Herb, he’s a regular, he’s not going to just run out!” Dottie’s voice comes on the heels of the man’s, equally stern. “Just give them a minute.”

“I gave them a minute, Dorothy,” the man—Herb, Eddie guesses—snaps. “I won’t have delinquents doing any kind of dine and dash nonsense.”

“Well, he didn’t even dine, so get back inside. And he isn’t a delinquent. Honestly,” Dottie is practically scolding, but Herb won’t be deterred.

“You’d better go take care of that.” Steve nods back towards the diner, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turning to walk off.

“Wait,” Eddie calls out. “Just wait a minute, please don’t–”

“Young man,” Herb barks out again, and Eddie hisses out a string of swears.

He jerks back around towards the diner, yanking out his wallet and trying to count bills as he walks.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I tried to tell him,” Dottie says, genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine, it’s– fine.” He offers her a weak smile. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Herb—the manager, if Eddie had to guess by his ugly, front-creased slacks and lack of apron—is unmoved.

“Come with me to the register,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for Eddie to go in.

“Dude, I know how much I owe you, can’t I just give you the money here?” Eddie asks, trying not to squirm with the antsy need to go running after Steve.

“And how much do you owe me?” Herb asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s, like, ten dollars for the meal, and then tip. Here.” Eddie holds out a handful of bills, but Herb refuses to take them.

“Like ten dollars isn’t an exact amount. Inside,” Herb demands.

Eddie is half tempted to just throw the bills at him and run, but even as Dottie squawks at the man that he’s being unreasonable, Eddie knows she won’t be enough to sway the guy from trying to ban him—or worse—so he follows Herb in and begrudgingly pays his bill at the register. He makes sure to hand the tip directly to Dottie, making spiteful eye contact with Herb as he does, and then he’s back out the door.

He doesn’t see Steve out on the road. He doesn’t see Steve at the entrance to the trailer park. He doesn’t see Steve’s car in front of his place when he finally gets back, winded from running at least halfway there.

Bastard probably took a shortcut through the woods.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie hauls off and kicks one of the tires on his van, the nearest available object, which does nothing but hurt his foot and make him a little more miserable.

When the jittering swell of anger and disappointment has receded a bit, no longer clogging his throat and giving him room to think a little more clearly, he considers his options.

Like last time, he could give Steve room to cool off. To lick his wounds in peace and then maybe come back to Eddie, ready to talk again.

Or.

Or he could get in his van, go find Steve, and show him that he’s willing to face his mistakes and make them better, whatever that takes. That he wants Steve to tell him what’s really wrong, so they can address it and move forward. That he’s willing to fight for Steve.

He’s already pulling out of his parking space before he even realizes he’s made his decision.

Part 9

Tag List (Currently full! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #OKAY BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING JUST REMEMBER #I have promised you a happy ending #solar wrote

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bisexuallsokka · 9 months

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“I was ready to fight for us. I was ready to find a way, any way for us to work. And you were the one who ran away when it got too hard!” “That’s not what happened and you know it!” Sokka snaps. “It was never going to work, and it was stupid to keep pretending otherwise! I’m sorry Zuko, I am, but just because you are the Fire Lord, just because we– we were in love, everything wasn’t going to magically fall into place.” Zuko still has a stubborn expression on his face. There are angry tears in his eyes when he says, “We could’ve figured it out. We could’ve…been us. We could’ve had a good life together.” “Yeah, well, I guess we won’t ever know.” (or, the twenty years between Zuko and Sokka breaking up and finally getting together again, shown in 5 times they don’t say goodbye, +1 time they don’t have to)

here is my divorced zukka fic that i have been working on for fifty million years <3 as I mention in the notes of the fic, i borrowed some iconic lines from some iconic fictional divorced couples that I am listing under the read more

Part one:

"We could’ve been us." - Good Omens season two

"We could’ve had a good life together" - Brokeback Mountain

Part two:

Everything from: “I just…maybe we should talk about,” Zuko gestures between the two of them, “this. I feel like there’s some things I wouldn't mind saying. And explaining.” to “We gave it a go” is adapted from a TomShiv moment in the last season of Succession.

Part three:

"Sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it." - Brokeback Mountain

Part four:

"I love you" / "It’ll pass" - Fleabag

"I love you" / "I know" - Empire Strikes Back

i'm a fool who didn't keep a list of everything i used as i went, so if you think i missed anything please let me know!! again i am in no way trying to pass these as my own lines

#zukka #divorced zukka #atla fanfiction #zuko #sokka #izumi #my writing #something is seriously wrong w the author of this fic smh #okay for real please read this i have been working on it for four months and. i love it. the angst. the divorce. the everything #it has a happy ending!! i promise!#just dont think about anything that happens after shhh #if nothing else read it for izumi

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xysidhequeen · 7 months

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Equilibrium

So the Dead on Main server caused me to spontaneously spawn an entire outline for an AU because I wanted a Dark Danny fic. So. Here's a snippet of what I'm working on.

It had started out subtly. The beginning of the end.

The GIW had crept into Amity Park, buying up empty office buildings. Making themselves known. 'Researchers' they called themselves.

They could always be seen whenever there was a ghost attack. Not running, not helping, not hindering. Just. Watching.

The first red flag that became obvious in hindsight was when they'd reached out to the Fentons. When Jack's long winded rants on ghosts didn't scare them away. When they started taking notes.

The second red flag was the government contract sent to the Fentons a week later.

But still, the GIW didn't do anything. They bought up the empty buildings, filled them with strangers in white suits. Amity Park gradually learned to ignore them. They were harmless, some weird government branch that had an interest in ghosts. It wasn't interesting after months of idleness from them.

Amity Parkers lowered their guard, answered the seemingly innocuous questions posed to them. 'How long have ghosts been attacking?' 'Have you ever been injured by one?' 'Have you noticed anything strange?' They were simple questions, questions any Amity Park resident could easily answer.

Eventually the GIW became another quirk of Amity. Something expected, normal even.

Then the 'clinics' started popping up. They were free to use, offering simple health care for any Amity Park resident. Common colds, ear infections, broken bones, vaccinations. You had to do a blood test to use them, but no one minded much when they were free. And injuries were so common with the ghost attacks. Ghosts never seemed to care about collateral, except Phantom. But he was the one ghost who protected them, so that was expected.

Amity Park became welcoming to the GIW. Open to their questions, freely giving information. Even Phantom was willing to stop occasionally when a question was called out to him by one of the white suited men or women.

Yet still, the government contract remained. The Fentons handing over blueprints of weapon after weapon, prototype designs shipped off. Research papers handed over by the box full.

The GIW presence increased slowly, over the months that became a year. Their clinics and offices multiplied. Empty buildings and shop fronts were bought as soon as they went on sale. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see a person in a white suit everywhere you went.

No one ever noticed how they never employed Amity Park residents. How they never hired, how there was never a help wanted sign posted or an ad made to ask for workers. No one wanted to look that deep.

Willful ignorance was easier than admitting they'd been invaded.

So the Amity Parkers kept answering questions. Kept visiting the clinics with their doctors who often asked questions unrelated to the reason for visiting. 'Have you noticed yourself becoming stronger?' 'How much sleep do you need, on average?' 'Have your eyes ever glowed?' 'How long can you hold your breath?'.

The clinics began offering more services, addressing more issues. All still for the small cost of a vial of blood. It became normal to visit a clinic rather than a doctor for anything. Flu? Clinic. Broken bone? Clinic. A nasty burn from an ecto-ray? Clinic.

Some people started vanishing, but that wasn't unusual in a city. People ran away or died all the time. It wasn't many, really. Maybe a one or two a month. There was no pattern in the victims, so it was presumed they were unrelated. The cops were stumped. No one paid attention to the fact that every single one of the missing had visited a clinic days before they vanished.

Then came the blackout. Or maybe it came sooner, it was so hard to tell when it started. When it became impossible for anyone in Amity Park to reach out to someone out of it. At first anyone who mentioned it was called crazy, conspiracy theorists.

But soon it became more obvious. Friends or family out of the city could no longer find any Amity Park resident on social media. Couldn't even find a mention of the city existing anywhere on the internet. They blamed it on the ghosts at first. They did weird things to technology, it must be them. Right?

Then they stopped being able to call out. Cell phones would no longer make or receive calls from anyone who didn't have an Amity number. They started to get restless.

Then came the roadblocks. Anyone trying to leave Amity found that all roads out were inexplicably blocked. Construction, they claimed. All the roads at once, yes. There had been earthquakes that destabilized the roads all around Amity. So they said.

They had been trapped, and they never saw the jaws closing on them until it was too late.

It didn't take long, once the revelation that they couldn't leave, couldn't call for help, spread.

The military moved in, penning them inside their city. Checkpoints were placed at every road in or out of Amity. You could only leave if you were in the company of a soldier or a GIW operative.

'Quarantined' they were told. Because of what they weren't told. Something highly contagious and dangerous was all they were given. Hospitals were taken over by men in white suits. Doctors and nurses were sent away, fired. New ones were shipped in, strangers.

More people started going missing. They all knew who took them but they couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it. Didn't want to.

Curfews were enforced. No one was allowed out after sundown, businesses had to shut down an hour before. No one was allowed out until dawn, schools were forced to start later. Anyone found breaking curfew was apprehended, sent to a holding facility. They weren't seen again.