Steve Saga Short Stories ♡

Acceptance *🩸

Authors note** Angst and fluff, ft Hypno as our narrator :3 enjoy!! This is sorta just filler, been quite burned out recently. I will be getting requests done soon(hopefully). I hope this can suffice as something of a 10k chapter while I continue to look under rocks for motivation

TW/CW: Mentions and discussion of abuse, fantasy violence, etc.

6134 words

...

I stretched, with a groan as my back popped harshly. Looking up at the Nightmare Palace, which made me feel smaller than an ant, I let out air I'd held, my backpack now sitting mildly awkward, leaning on my forearm crutches for a moment to take it all in.

"L-l-last chan-ance to tur-r-rn(ur-rn, ur-rn) back..." I muttered in thought

Did I really want to even try and go back? Did I really care for any of the villain— all whom fucked me over time and time again— to stop by and check in? They might not even want me there... Then again, fuck them. They kept my baby brother from me, for this long? They could have tried to tell me! They know how to get to me, they used to pester me non-stop and I've seen Mimic a million times! I made eye contact with them a million times, including literally last week!

I held my breath for a moment, trying to keep calm, before letting it out. I shifted my lean on my crutches so I could use one for support. I don't always use crutches, my legs are worse some days than others. Maybe that should've been my sign to postpone this...

I took my bag off a shoulder, opening one of my smaller pockets for the cutesy bag of gummy bears I often kept in there. It's not a low blood sugar thing, they're edibles, it's an anxiety thing. Prescription weed. Self prescription since I've never seen a doctor and am a medical atrocity. Thanks creator, for making me "small frankenstein monster".

You can see why sometimes parts of me dont work as well, especially my legs. I probably shouldn't even be living alone but I have no one to help... so if I die I die. It's not morbid, more-so an end to my misery, but in truth I'm hard to kill. I've had my head cut clean off and all that happened was a weird out-of-body moment and having to get stitched together.

I waited a little, not long enough for it to work but long enough so it'll probably start kicking in when I get to the gate. I was still a long while away from the palace, in fact I was still by the portal... probably could have leaned on that while getting my weed but you know what? The past is the past-

I almost fell when someone came through the portal. I kinda... threw myself and rolled to the side. It hurt and one of my stitches came loose but when you're me that's an easy fix. On the other hand, one of my crutches got left behind on the way to the sideline... so it was kinda completely useless to have done that in the first place.

"Oh hey"

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

"H-h-hey(ey, ey ,ey)... u-u-u-uh(uh, uh, uh), M(o, o, o)oss-s-s-s Steve(eve, eve, eve)?"

He looked at me funny for a moment, he seemed put off by my voice, go figure. Surprise he didn't just plug his ears and run. Now why am I assuming this steve's pronouns? Cause, like, half the steve at the Nightmare Palace are mildly transphobic and just generally bigoted. Ablist, anti-ace, bigots.

You can see why I left... being non-binary, ace/aro, and disabled. Not all of them, but still. But I can put it aside for like, two minutes, because I want to vibe check my brother. Also because he's probably being raised like I was... for all I know he might run away, too. Either way, I've only met cis-steves work for them.

"Plague Steve, actually" He huffed "What you doin' over here? You a rookie?"

I huffed, getting my needle and thread from my bad "V-v-visit(sit, sit)ing."