[OPEN] Well. That Didn't Go Quite As Planned

[moneytwin]

Who: EVERYONE
Where: The Temple of Beginnings
When: Immediately After The End.
Rating: PG-13, may vary by thread
What: You fall, you pick yourself back up and you move on. Or at least, you try.


Fished Out Of Water
One minute, you are witnessing the fabric of an entire world implode as it is literally ripped apart by powers unknown. The next, that tell-tale twist somewhere beneath your sternum, before you are bodily YANKED away from Akvos, away from the ocean and the Queen and the King and the Princess.

And land back on (mostly) solid, dry ground.

Welcome back to the Temple of Beginnings. Don't worry, there's no hurry for you to get back up just yet.


Hey, Howya Doin'?
Once you do get back up, now is the time to be taking stock of the situation - yours, your friends, and even those new merfolk neighbours (who may need a hand getting their fins back into the water). There is also the missing members of the Circle to consider: people who disappeared on the journey to Akvos, and those who never made it back..

(There's also that small matter with a certain 'witchess-san' that may be a cause for concern to some more than others.)

Whatever the case, it's a lot to process right now. Take the time you have, because you don't know if it'll be enough for what you need.

---

[[ OOC: Here's an open post for threads reacting to the end of the Akvos world hop. Feel free to use the above prompts, and/or make your own! ]]

Comments

[fuck1ngusernam3]

1. - mmm old man tears
(juuuust in case I'm going to ask for a max of 3 tag-ins to this one)


[It's gonna be a shameful thing, later, when Hank remembers it, when he realizes his first thought wasn't for all those people, all those fucking people, jesus - his first thought is that he's finally actually drowning, months and months of feeling water swirling around in his lungs every single fucking second, of shoving panic down every time he thinks about what he's breathing, all that and then this is when he drowns, this now, fuck, when he just got the chance to actually fucking breathe again.

He coughs and gasps and chokes even when he doesn't need to, when all the water's out of him and dripping through the grass he's still heaving high, panicky gasps in and out of him, coughing on all the water that's not there that he never fucking got used to, not like he was supposed to, like he was supposed to just accept it and move on and go fucking save everyone-

Sumo moves close enough that Hank can reach him and he does, winds his fingers through Sumo's thick fur and that was the key that'd tried to open the floodgates back when he'd first got there, that first horrible day underwater when he'd tried to pet Sumo and spent the next ten minutes trying to wrestle his shit back under control instead, but there's no getting it under control now. He pushes off the ground - or tries to, the dirt's solid under his knees and gravity's holding him down for the first time in months, the first time in a couple million fucking years, and he leans up and wraps his arms around his dog while the first sob kicks its way out through his throat. He presses his face into Sumo's fur, trying to muffle the noise, hoping like hell that wherever he is is somewhere no one else wants to go cause he's here and he's still coughing or gasping every other breath and even if he's clenching his jaw shut over it, crying is just happening now. Hank doesn't get a choice about it.

At least Sumo's relaxed - or maybe that makes it worse. If Sumo was freaked by all this, if he acted like Hank losing his shit all over him was something scary and new, maybe Hank could lock this down long enough to go somewhere with walls and doors where no one'll ever hear or know. But Sumo just sits there, accepting this part of his routine, just another fucking day, so Hank doesn't even have that much to try and shove himself back into some kind of normal human shape for.]

2. - would 'drowning our sorrows' be an appropriate water-based pun here

[What the fuck was he going to do after that whole shitshow but get blasted out of his fucking mind? Right now, a part of that's happening in the kitchen. The pantry door's open and the sweet sounds of angry cursing float out from it, along with the sounds of things getting tossed around. Every now and then the arc of one of those things - usually bags of things, grain or some old fashioned shit, sometimes fruit, occasionally an empty bottle - takes it through the pantry door and out on some crazy uncharted course into the room beyond. If anyone's in the way of some of that shit- well, too bad.]

Where- come on, come on, where the... fucking shit...

3a.

[About an hour later he's by the lake. There's a bottle of wine a couple feet in front of him, closer to the lake's shore. He's got the neck of another bottle, one holding something clear, with a stronger smell, held loose in his right hand. His elbow's resting on his knee. He's looking out over the water. He's frowning.]

Fucking hated this piece of shit even before- Who wants to be in the middle of all that goddamn water anyway, all that creepy shit down there, an' fuckin... Buncha bullshit, if you ask me. What's the fuckin point of all that bullshit.

3b.

[Same lake. Same hour, more or less. Hank's got rocks, now, and he's throwing them hard toward the water with a sneer on his face. Feel free to catch him showing this damn lake exactly what he thinks of it, or-]

3c.

[-when his dog gets in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time and a rock bounces off him. It's small, Sumo's not really hurt, but the startled noise he makes has Hank dropping his bottle and crawling over, wrapping his arms around the big dog's neck again.]

Fuck. Fuck, fuck. I'm sorry, fuck. Shit. Sumo- Nngh-

[After that thick, wordless noise Hank swallows, takes a big, shaky breath, and tries to figure out if he's about to start crying again.]

2!

[rightfully]

[ By now, there are two definitive things Lucina knows about Hank:

1. He never stops swearing.
2. Liquour is very important to him.

She only came into the kitchen to prepare some tea. Her waist length hair remains a mess of salt-streaked tangles, half-dry at best, and there's a faint shadow to her expression - around her eyes, furling over her mouth. There have been better days, certainly. The calamitous noise doesn't help, bottles clinking together - one flying past her face -

She catches the next one, unflinching. It's nice to know her reflexes are still up to par, if nothing else. It's set down unceremoniously. ]

Excuse me.

[ You're keeping her from the tea, lieutenant! >:( ]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Yeah yeah, excuse the fuck outta you.

[He doesn't recognize the voice, and doesn't try to recognize it. Nor does he look out of the pantry to try and see who that voice belongs to.]

We're all just full of excuses tod- fuck! Shit!

[There's a heavy thump, the sound of a shelf shaking, and a thump against the pantry door that makes it swing a little further closed.]

Crap. Motherfuckin...

[Who's got two thumbs and just tripped over some shit he threw on the floor in the first place? No one. Definitely not Hank. We're not here to talk about that.]

[rightfully]

[ Pushing open the pantry door, just a bit... Yes. That is an angry old man on the floor. By now, Lucina is well aware how much he disdains help (and possibly even her) - but she can't help but at least ask, her natural tendencies briefly overriding her exhaustion, her simmering despair - ]

Are you alright?

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Fuck you!

[Hank squeezes his eyes shut. He covers his face.]

I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. Peachy! Sorry. Fuck. Uh-

[The hand on his face shifts so he's pressing his fingers against his eyes instead.]

I'm in the way, right? There's somethin in here you wanted?

3c

[shootstyles]

[After throwing up what seemed like an impossible amount of water, Izuku has just been wandering around aimlessly the temple grounds. He should sleep, he should change his damp clothes, but all he can think about is what seeing Akvos being torn into darkness.

They lost... They let all of those people just... die.

He comes across a familiar form as he laps around the lake: Lieutenant Anderson... Hank holding his dog and sounding rough to say the least. Izuku approaches, feeling like maybe he should try to say something... anything, like a hero should. Or maybe, selfishly, ask if he can pet Sumo for a little bit.]

Lieutenant...

[But Izuku finds that he can't say anything comforting or even smile, instead something in his heart and suddenly he's crying all the tears he's been avoiding all day instead of offering any sort of comfort. "A cool hero that smiles at makes everyone feel at ease?" Yeah, right.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank looks up, for a moment just gapes dumbly at the kid crying in front of him.]

Motherfucker.

[He’s not- He can’t handle someone else’s feelings right now, he’s having enough trouble not crying already and he’s spent the last couple hours working through this moonshine and there’s a kid crying in front of him.

Hank might not know Izuku super well, but he knows him. Hank knows he’s one of those cheerful people, the kind of upbeat that always puts him off balance a little. He knows Izuku can’t - maybe physically can’t - bring himself to call Hank anything actually casual. There’s maybe two people in this whole place who ever still call him lieutenant. Hank knows Izuku will talk a mile a minute about heroes, how fucking great they are - there was some shit about smiling, he thinks, vaguely. Hank knows Izuku’s due to hit the same hard wall all idealistic kids do, eventually. Hank knows he doesn’t want to be around when he does.

Hank knows he doesn’t always get what he wants.

The noise Hank makes levering himself up is part at the effort of doing it, part just an excuse to make an unhappy noise, but since Sumo’s big and patient and used to propping up big wobbly assholes Hank makes it up. He makes his way toward Izuku, frowning, holding an arm out to try and slip it around Izuku’s shoulders and pull him in to a hug the moment Izuku lets him.]

Fuck. Come on, kid. Come on. It’s okay.

[He should know better than to say shit like that. It’s stupid and wrong and he reaches to run a hand over the kid’s hair and it falls out of his mouth anyway.]

It’s okay.

[shootstyles]

[Heroes don't cry like this, a voice nags in the back of his head. He wants to stop, he really does. He wanted to be the one offering comfort and standing strong but he's completely fallen apart.

When Hank puts an arm around his shoulders, he collapses into the embrace without a second thought. Izuku likes to imagine he can handle things on his own, to not burden others with his problems, but right he just... can't. He can't do anything but collapse. And he's grateful to be soothed like a child. He'll definitely have to make this up to the lieutenant later.

He sniffles loudly and tries to wipe his wet face on his sleeve.]

'm sorry.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank pulls back just far enough to look down at him. It occurs to him, faintly, that - oh yeah, he's not supposed to touch people. But, fuck, it's not like the kid could be feeling anything worse right now. If it looks like Hank's power might be doing some shit to Izuku's state of mind Hank'll step back, but he's going to be bad enough at this shit without worrying about magic BS gumming up the works. He doesn't know if he could stand to step back anyway, not while the kid's still... Yeah. Not right now. He's supposed to try not to touch people anymore, but maybe all bets are off right now.]

Shit, sorry? What the fuck are you sorry for?

[Wait. Okay. He swears more when he's been drinking. And when he's just lived through society-ending disasters. But Izuku needs an adult right now. Hank's red eyes and his deep, shaky breaths might give it away, that the whole adult thing is a really shitty act, or maybe his sharp, almost stinging smell that pretty much matches that open bottle over there might give him away, but he slaps a mental post-it up on the inside of his brain reminding himself to watch his damn mouth, and he tries to figure it out anyway, how to act like a goddamn adult.]

Look, uh. Do you want- [He glances around for inspiration. The bottles? Haha fuck no. Um.] Do you wanna, um... talk? About it?

[He says it like he's not sure it's even coming out of his mouth. Oh boy is hearing about how life changingly horrific all that shit was not what Hank needs right now, but he's about eighty percent sure talking about it's what he's supposed to encourage right now, and if it helps this poor fuckin kid right now, well. What the hell. Why the fuck not.]

3b

[dadandgone]

[It's already been a long day. Maes doesn't look forward to trying to sleep, but at least he has the advantage. He's seen this kind of mass loss of life before. Well, okay, even this is beyond the scope he's dealt with as a soldier and he's not sure that really counts as an advantage or just another aspect of his life that is extremely messed up.

But, whatever the case, he has decided on two things. He wants to help the people among the Circle who aren't so adjusted to these things and he wants to put off sleep as long as possible. He figures that the Circle will be made of two camps: those who want to get as far away from water as possible (like Roy) and those who will not move far from where they returned.

This mindset pays off when he sees Hank skipping rocks across the lake. Wait, no, he's just throwing them angrily. They hadn't spoken much, but Maes recognizes him as someone who'd been working with Roy over the few weeks leading up to attempts at negotiations...which were apparently all pointless since the world just ripped itself in half anyway. Perhaps that's why he's throwing the rocks. Something glints on the shore and he glances down at the bottles of booze. Right.]

Venting?

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank snorts and shoots the guy a short, derisive look.]

Venting's what you do when there's a traffic jam on the way to work and then you spill shitty office coffee all over your pants. This- I'm-

[He hurls another rock at the lake, catches himself thinking, I hope it hits one of those bastards, and looks down, swallowing, holding the next rock from his little pile in his hand and hitting his knee with it a couple times. He takes a breath.]

Fuck, I don't know. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. What about you? You wanna get some fucking 'venting' in?

[At 'venting' Hank nudges the bottle of wine with a foot. There's one kind of venting he's interested in and, right now, anyone and everyone's invited to partake.]

[dadandgone]

[Hank certainly has a point there and Maes knew he'd been using understatement to approach the conversation, but he's also not sure if there is even a word for processing and dealing with emotions and loss the way Hank is currently doing so.

Maybe just straight raging? Maes steps forward, picking up the indicated bottle. He takes a swig, having missed the taste of alcohol after so long. That should at least answer that part of the question. He looks off at the lake.]

None of us do. No one is ready to handle what we just experienced...a whole civilization possibly a whole world just vanished in the blink of an eye and none of what we did leading up to that point meant anything. Stuff like that only happens in nightmares.

Venting wasn't the right word, but I'm not sure there's another word out there.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank looks away, jaw tight. Hearing someone just say it out loud like that is... Well, fuck, it's what happened, isn't it? He chases the clenched feeling in his throat with the burn of shitty homemade moonshine and coughs a little, leaning over his knees.]

I'd settle for kicking the shit out of something. Thought about those uh, dummies or whatever, over by the temple, but they'd probably kick my ass.

[He tilts his head back and forth, a 'then again...' gesture.]

Still thinkin about it, actually. What'd you think? That count as venting too?

3b

[bleps]

[Same lake, same hour. Different mode of company.

Connor steps quietly forward to meet Hank, one of the few he's taken the time to seek out after their apparent failure on the last world. He hears the plunking of rocks into the surface of the lake, the angry way they land. He counts just how many are thrown before he eases into earshot, and even then, he feels-

He experiences hesitation. Something cold weighs on him, lancing across coding. Like Amanda's rigid stare, quiet condescension, pointed upon him from across the horizon.]

Lieutenant...?

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[The look Hank gives him is angry, resentful, and brief, turned back after a couple seconds to the lake in front of him where he hurls another rock, hard, and it comes out at a shitty angle and goes maybe ten feet before sinking fast into the water.]

You like callin me that, don't you? Well all that lieutenant shit, all those fancy skills you say I got to bring to the table- being a lieutenant did me a whole lot of fucking good, didn't it?

[He looks down, running his tongue over his teeth. He sighs. All the anger that was in his voice before's been switched out with something apologetic, tired.]

Bet you wish you could drink right about now, huh.

[bleps]

[The look that Hank gives him is initially enough to still him in his spot, the anger and resentment acting something that hooks the soles of his shoes into the ground. Connor doesn’t move forward, his brows pinched tight, frown prominent on his face. His LED works a telling yellow, to match his mood.]

I—

[Difficult to know how to approach this. That Hank’s first world hop should be met with failure — that Connor’s second should be the same.]

We must have missed something, if only we had a little more time. If we had—

[It all sounds like excuses, spinning in his programming. All those people he failed…]

It wasn’t supposed to end like that.

2

[brodakota]

[North is tired, to say the least. After everything that's gone on, all he really wants to do is sleep. But that's also proving to be a bit elusive at the moment, so he's doing what he does to help with anxiety, which is to just wander around. At least, it used to help.

Though he's a little startled to hear the sounds of rummaging and his guard is up as he makes his way over to the pantry.]

Looking for something?

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Wow, figure that one out all by yourself, or did you have to get someone to help you?

[There's a heavy noise of things shifting as Hank leans all his weight back against a shelf, a rasp as he runs his hands over his beard. When he goes on he doesn't sound defensive any more, sounds just short of shaky instead.]

Fuck. Shit, uh. Look if uh, if you're here to get something about half of it's out there already. I don't know why you would, it's all fuckin stupid, who the hell grinds their own goddamn flour... uh, but there should be plenty of bullshit out there, so.

[So, sorry not sorry - except yeah, actually sorry but not enough to say it with words like a big kid, and too sorry to just say 'get your shit and let me get back to throwing stuff around'. He's hoping the message that makes it out is some kind of mix of those two.]

[brodakota]

Nothing in particular. Just wondering who was going through the pantry, in case someone else moved in while we were gone.

[North gets it, and that's probably why he's not going to leave right away.]

You need flour for something?

1

[billionaires]

[ tony is, more or less, used to being completely terrified every day of his life. akvos had been no different, but that doesn't mean he was unaffected. he twists his body towards the ground, vomiting water and plankton and god knows what else as he plants a hand in the sand and feels tears prick the backs of his eyes painfully. he's sure he looks like shit and that's good: because he really, really feels that way. he assumes he's alone, doesn't see anyone else even as he manages to draw up some and start gulping in oxygen. his first breath is sharp and he pulls too quickly, hacking even as he blinks water from his eyes and starts to assess his surroundings. a big dog - like a really big dog - is the first thing tony sees, frowning as he coughs again and tries to remember how the hell he breathed for so damn long. 45 years without a hitch and now... now he's struggling.

he assumes there's a person with the dog upshore from him, though his vision won't clear enough for him to see hank, let alone recognize him. instead, tony gives into the urge to just fall and let the sand cushion him, resting there on his back until something starts to make some sort of sense. ]

I'm filling in all my swimming pools when I get home.

[ an announcement to the dog or anyone else within earshot. he still hasn't worked out that the other man is distraught, sorry, give him a minute. ]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Fucking shit. Crying when you just can't not is one thing. Doing it in public, in front of people? That's on another level, one he doesn't plan on going to here, or anywhere, or ever. Hank tries to choke off the noise he's making but that only - yeah - makes him choke, and he leans back from Sumo to try and gulp in some air but he ends up shoving Sumo harder than he meant to and Sumo staggers a little. He reaches out to put a hand on Sumo's back and opens his mouth to apologize, and a sharp sob comes out instead so he just shoves his fist against his fucking mouth, hears a whining little moan start trying to slip around it and has to follow that up with something, anything to distract from all- all this, all this shit, so he reaches for the most normal response he can think of.]

I'm- I'm draining out the whole god- goddamn-

[Then the feeling - he can't tell if it's in his head or not, but it sure is a feeling - of leftover water going that familiar wrong way down his throat has Hank coughing and gasping and he feels a couple tears sliding down his face, and murmurs to himself just for something outside that opened-up feeling to focus on.]

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck...

[billionaires]

[ oh, that's a person, not a dog. is he that fucked up still? tony sits up - too fast too fast - and turns to look over his shoulder. oh, it's a dog AND a person. see, him and reality can both be right, occasionally. another squint and he thinks he might even recognize him: the human not the dog. okay, okay, he's getting up.

it takes a few tries but he manages to stumble to his feet, projectile vomiting more water into the dirt the second he's vertical. ]

Mmm, tastes like tuna. [ he pats his chest then works on the arduous task of shuffling these stupid feet-things over to where hank is currently having 12 simultaneous panic attacks. been there, pal. ] Is he...

[ friendly? the dog seems pretty sedate, so tony doesn't even finish his thought, instead crouching down in front of the pair and glancing down so he's not staring right at a guy who's trying to pull it together right now. he has also so been there and it blows. hard. ]

I guess you believe me now...? [ about this whole thing being real, though hank believing who he is wouldn't hurt either. mostly? he's just trying to lighten the mood. ]

3c

[additionalmemory]

[There’s a young woman standing a few feet behind him on the lake. She doesn’t have much of a presence, almost as if she were a ghost.

(She’s not)

She’d been internally debating weather or not to speak up, but there’s something particularly upsetting about an older man hugging a dog. Or anyone hugging a dog.]

It’s a good dog.

It definitely understands you weren’t aiming at it. [she takes a few cautious steps forward]

Do you mind...? [mind what, exactly? Well, this guy can determine that.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank's choked noise melts into something miserable and frustrated - and quiet, thank god. It's not like she can't still hear him but quiet's better, quiet's closer to having his shit together. Why hadn't he gone back to his room as soon as he got back, as soon as he'd got enough control of himself to do it? Maybe a part of him knows that once he does go back there he's not coming out. He'd needed to see the water.]

I mind a whole lotta fuckin shit today, kid. You're gonna have to be more specific.

[He only half-looks up from Sumo as he says it; he wants to be sure he's presentable - ha, well, presentable as he ever gets - before he actually turns to face her. Having to figure out how to force himself to look functional in front of not just the one kid but now a second one? The universe hates him.]

[additionalmemory]

[ :[

He’s a bit scary. She shuffles her feet awkwardly, not really moving forward or backward.]

If I shared the lake with you for a bit, I mean...

[She bends down to pick up a small rock.]

Throwing stones...it’s really not such a bad idea right now.