#just a bit i swear
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Ahaha, I have another because I’m greedy 🙈 But this prompt for Rowaelin, please??:
I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.
Thank you!
hehehehe okay so both you and @tomtenadia asked for this one and I really really hope this delivers 😈😁🥰
500 followers celebration prompt fills
Word count: 2.2k oops
Warnings: some angst and hurt BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT I PROMISE and it's followed by so much comfort
Enjoy!!
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Aelin blinked back into reality and found herself in a hospital bed, her body covered in a cotton gown, aches and dulled pains creeping back into her consciousness as her head cleared. She shifted and found her left arm in a sling, immobilized. She shook her head gently, trying to bring up the memories of just how the hell she'd ended up in the emergency room instead of back at her hotel.
"Good to see you awake," a woman's voice said from her right. Aelin turned her head to find a nurse, about her own age, clad in the same blue scrubs as the other staff. "You've been asleep for a solid few hours, probably thanks to the medication."
"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.
The nurse pressed her lips together. "Do you remember a car accident?"
Oh.
Just like that, the memories flooded back. Aelin had been sitting in the back of a taxi, heading from a coffee shop where she'd been at a casual post-session meeting back to her hotel in downtown Doranelle. As the taxi had driven through an intersection, a driver had run the red light in the opposite direction and hit the rear side of the taxi. Her memories got a little fuzzy after that, mostly just snippets of shock, confusion, flashing lights and sirens, and a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance.
"You remember?" the nurse asked. Aelin nodded. "Good. That's a good sign that you likely don't have a concussion." She scratched a few notes onto her clipboard. "Now that you're awake, we can finish discharging you. You're stable, so we won't need you to stay here."
"So I can go home?" Aelin signed the papers the nurse handed her.
"No."
"What do you mean, I can't go home?" Still a little out of it from the medication they'd given her, Aelin blinked at the ER nurse. "You just told me I don't need to stay."
"Let me clarify, then," the nurse replied. "You've been cleared to go home, but you have not been cleared to go home alone. You'll need someone to take you--and no, a taxi or an Uber doesn't count." A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips at Aelin's disgruntled frown. "It's for your safety, Miss Galathynius. We don't want to see our ER patients back here within a few hours because they tried to do something they shouldn't have done."
Aelin sighed. "All right. You can call my emergency contact." She leaned back into the hospital bed. "I'd ask you to call my parents, but they live over a thousand miles away, so that isn't possible."
"As long as you have an emergency contact on file, that will be fine." The nurse placed Aelin's normal clothes in a small pile on the chair next to the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes to let you know who's coming for you."
"Thanks." Aelin managed a half smile before tilting her head back and groaning. Gods. Of all the days and times to wind up in the ER, it had to be now, during her work trip to Doranelle. At least their healthcare system was well-funded and well-run; the staff who she vaguely remembered tending to her when she came in were polite, professional, and expertly trained. Muffling a grunt, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripped the handrail, and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her legs at once. Shakily, she managed to stand up and reach for her clothes.
There, she got stuck. She couldn't get out of her hospital gown alone because the damn thing was tied in the back and her damn arm was in a sling to immobilize her injured shoulder.
She'd just screamed a string of foul curses into the pillow when there was a knock on the door and the nurse reappeared. "Good news, Miss Galathynius! A Mr. Rowan Whitethorn is on his way to pick you up."
Ah, shit. The thought of Rowan Whitethorn seeing her like this was almost enough to make her wish she'd been kept at the hospital.
"All right," was what she told the nurse. "I hope he's bringing food, because I am bloody hungry."
The nurse laughed. "I'm sure he'll be able to get you all the food you want once you're out of here." She handed Aelin a small paper bag. "There is a small quantity of pain medicine in here. I'd recommend taking it once or twice a day, depending on how severe your pain is, for the next four to seven days. You can take over-the-counter pain medications as well. After seven days, stop taking the prescription medication. If there's any left, you can bring it to any pharmacy here and they'll discard it."
Aelin nodded along. "Okay. Thank you." She flashed a soft smile at the nurse, who'd been nothing but kind to her.
"Of course." The nurse offered her a small smile in return and left the room.
Aelin considered whether or not it would be worth attempting to get into her normal clothes before Rowan got there and decided that it wasn't. If he had to walk her out of the hospital still wearing the godsdamned gown, then he would. Damn shoulder.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, Rowan Whitethorn pushed open the door and burst into the hospital room. His crisply pressed suit was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, his collar undone, and his eyes were wild, almost panicky, as he crossed the room in two long strides and cupped Aelin's face in his hands.
"What the hell?!" She pulled away from him, hissing at the sharp twinge of pain caused by the sudden movement.
He stepped back, hands up. "You what the hell? Give me a fucking heart attack, why don't you, Galathynius?"
She rolled her eyes. "You barely even know me, Whitethorn. Shut it with the heart attack nonsense."
"No." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "Why the hell am I your emergency contact?"
"Because I'm a thousand miles from home, I don't live here, and you're the only person at this fucking seminar that's bothered to learn my name." The small rant spilled out of Aelin before she could stop it. "I needed to have someone on file, and your stupid face is the first name I thought of. You're lucky I had your business card, or I'd be stuck here until I convinced the nurse that I could Uber back to my hotel without dying."
Rowan's cranky expression morphed into mild shock, then concern. "So you weren't going to explain why in all hell your arm is in a sling and there's bruises all over you?"
"They're not all over me," she huffed. "There's some minor bruising on my clavicles, arms, and left cheek. And anyone who asks why I'm wearing a sling deserves to be told to shut the fuck up."
"Fair enough," he admitted. "Fine. I'll drive you back to your hotel." He offered one hand.
She held up her good hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Business. I need to change into my own clothes." She frowned. "But with this bloody sling, I can't get the gown untied."
To her immense shock, a blush spread up his angled cheekbones. "Um...should I call the nurse?"
"This is an ER, Whitethorn, not the regular hospital ward," she deadpanned. "I've been discharged, so as far as they're concerned, I'm no longer their patient. You can help me."
His blush deepened. "I..." He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual impassive mask. "Fine. Tell me what you need help with."
She turned, presenting her back. "Untie the gown, please."
He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "she's trying to kill me" and carefully untied the gown, keeping his hands as far from her skin as possible. Which wasn't very far, since he was literally undressing her.
Aelin was still wearing her bra and underwear beneath the gown, and because she wanted to have a little fun, she let the gown drop to the floor instead of holding it up to herself. Rowan emitted a strangled cough and wheezed behind her. She smirked. "Is something wrong, Whitethorn?"
"Nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Where are your clothes?"
"On the chair. Hand me my pants, please." He did, and she pulled on her slacks. "Blouse." The blouse was a little more trouble. Aelin got it halfway on and stopped, unable to wrangle her sling arm into the unbuttoned blouse. "Shit."
"Here." Unexpectedly, Rowan had picked up her sweater and draped it over her injured arm, careful to keep his touch light. He let her slip her good arm into the other sleeve, then buttoned the three big buttons on the front of the loose sweater. "Does that help?"
"Yes." She flashed him a small, hesitant grin. "Thanks."
He clutched his chest. "Polite words from Aelin Galathynius? What world is this?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a jackass, Whitethorn, just let me grab my purse and we can get the hell out of here."
"Not so fast." He snatched her purse before she could reach it. "Are you supposed to be carrying this?"
"I still have one good arm," she sighed. "Give it to me." He raised one pale brow in disbelief. "Yes, Whitethorn, I can carry my purse. It's not too heavy for the limit they gave me."
Satisfied with that answer, he handed her her purse and held the door open as she walked out. "I'm parked kind of far away," he admitted as they left the ER building. "Couldn't find a closer spot."
"It's okay," she reassured him. "It's my arm that's injured, not my legs."
Her traitorous legs chose that very moment to wobble, betraying her strong façade.
"Mhmm," Rowan drawled, a smirk curving his lips.
She scowled. "Shut it."
He mumbled something indecipherable and, without warning, lifted her off her feet. "We'll actually get somewhere if I don't have to put up with your toddling," he teased.
Aelin's mouth dropped open. "Toddling?!"
His smirk grew. "Tell me you weren't as unsteady as a toddler and I'll call you a liar, Ae." The nickname fell from his lips as easily as his dry sarcasm.
"You're horrid," she grumbled, folding her arms.
"And look at that, we're already at my car!" he announced, triumphant. She sighed and let him help her into the passenger seat.
As they headed down the streets towards downtown Doranelle, Rowan flicked a glance over at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"
"Remember the accident that blocked up half of downtown earlier this afternoon?" she asked. He nodded. "I was in the taxi that got hit."
If he hadn't been driving, he would have stopped in his tracks. "You--what?"
"Rowan." Instinctively, she reached over and placed her good hand on his forearm. "I'm okay. It wasn't a huge crash."
"It wasn't--Aelin, do you know what happened at that intersection?"
"I remember my taxi getting hit."
His throat bobbed. "The driver that hit your taxi skidded on black ice and T-boned another vehicle. It was...it was bad."
She gasped. "I had no idea."
"Of course not," he murmured. "You were injured, Ae." He shifted one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap it around her good hand. "There were some serious injuries, but everyone made it to the hospital in time and it seems like they're all stable. Police arrested the driver for DUII and reckless driving." His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand. "It's been all over the news and social media."
"I had no idea," she repeated, softly. "I...I'm glad everyone seems to be okay." She leaned back into the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.
At the hotel, Rowan surprised her again by parking, helping her out of the car, and grabbing a small duffle bag from the backseat of his car before accompanying her inside.
"What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath as he walked beside her to the elevator, his steadying hand on her lower back.
"I've been given orders to see you safely home," he drawled, mirth lighting his eyes.
She frowned. "I'm at my hotel, in case you haven't noticed."
He nodded. "You are. And I'm going to make sure you get to your room safe and sound."
"You going to pat me on the head and tuck me into bed, too?" she griped.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind putting you to bed, Aelin," he whispered into her ear. The heat concealed in his lazy words barreled down her spine, awakening a part of her that had absolutely no business being so active when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.
She stepped out of the elevator before Rowan and led him down the hall to her room, where she stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her key card to the lock. The small screen flashed green, the door unlocked, and with her hand on the half-open door, Aelin turned to face Rowan, her calm voice belying her thundering heart.
"Stay with me, Ro?"
More emotions than she could count flashed across his face. He followed her into the hotel room, closed the door, and leaned himself against the door frame, resting the weight of his gaze on her.
"I'd love to."
~~~
TAGS:
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#my writing#answered prompt#leia's 500 followers thing#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#liiiiiittle bit of angst#just a bit i swear#and tons of hurt comfort#emphasis on comfort#i would never hurt my babies idk what you mean
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He was feeling left out
and the higher rez stills, since gifs always export as if you're sending messages through a metal can~
#you may be wondering why I put so much effort into this#I'm curious too funny how these things happen sometimes#anyways I think omega has jets on his back that would let him fly but consider: he wants to Look Cool#shadow the hedgehog#rouge the bat#omega e123#sxsg#sonic x shadow generations#team dark#sxsg spoilers#sonic#idk how long I need to tag spoilers but I'll be nice#comic#having the camera shifted towards shadow for the middle bit was a Mistake#he is soooo much harder to draw than rouge asl;dkfj#like one degree off on the eyes and it becomes unviable I swear#except for profiles ironically that first panel was easy as hell#looking back on this I love how I Completely changed how I drew rouge's wings after the first panel#I think the difference was I just swapped refs and her character model was different lol#meanwhile I'm just blatantly cheating shadow's wings for the middle panel purely to fit them in at all#I truly love how oversized they are except for when I'm trying to make a readable composition#yet another reason he should've been back to the camera rather than facing it in the middle but so it goes#my art#doodles
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i think i read this in a fic on ao3 but i forgot which one
#apologies for the lack of art lately i just got distracted doing. not art#modelling here and there. a bit of blender#whatever i felt like. and none of that was art#i swear i have better ideas in my backlog i just forgot where i put the backlog#whatever im tired and anxious for some inexplicable reason so ill shut up#art#murder drones#murder drones uzi#murder drones lizzy#i got a tad lazy bite me
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But … how the staff swear? We Need to know that too…(of you want of course … love your art and your Amazing humor!!!)
(thank you! :D)
Trein: said 'damn' once when he was sixteen, still lays awake at night in embarrassment about his deplorable lapse in manners.
Vargas: swears like an old-timey carnival strongman. lots of "poppycock" and "what the devil" and an occasional "deuces!" (this makes classes very confusing for poor Deuce)
Crowley: doesn't intentionally swear, but every once in a while he'll, like...put together a presentation on the new staff policies or something that builds up to an acronym which, by complete coincidence, spells out something shockingly depraved.
it happens often enough that you'd think he's doing it on purpose, except. it's Crowley.
Sam: swears in the text, gets away with it because the character reading is always something else
(this is very specific to the Japanese version and probably too meta but I made myself laugh with it, I...I'm sorry)
#art#twisted wonderland#yeah here's some more characters swearing#i promise i will get back to actual Jokes™ at some point#(sorry for spamming a bit! just catching up on things)#anyway thanks for joining me for today's edition of crewel being slapped in the face with a sudden and unwelcome sense of sonder#trein: mister crewel need i remind you that i also have access to the internet#crewel: la la la i can't hear you#trein: i am aware of the existence of websites other than those that exclusively provide cat videos#crewel: lA LA LA --
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Alright, I will start with this one then - everything starts with the glorious revolution and everything starts with the night watch 🌸
#discworld#terry pratchett#samuel vimes#havelock vetinari#vimes x vetinari#vetvimes#lord vetinari#glorious revolution#lilac#the night watch#night watch#Am I doing it right at all#AAAAA#I love this book I hate it so much#Blame my sweet gf for spoiling me with such amazing literature also#AND FOR MAKING ME GO THROUGH THESE BOOKS IT'S JUST... UGGGH#Also also it's not Carrot I swear he wasn't there also Vimes should've been armorless but I realized it a bit too late BUT THAT'S FINE#my art
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logan purrs when he's asleep. he purrs like a content little cat when he's smushed into wade's side, his whole adamantium weight pressing into wade who doesn't really mind because ✨️who in their right mind says no to wolvie cuddles✨️ (wade uses him as a weighted blanket anyway, who needs air pffffft he doesn't)
but HOLY MARVEL JESUS he has a silent freak out the first time he discovers logan purring in his sleep during one of their movie binges. (they have weekly movie nights fight me)
a healthy (not) bout of cuteness aggression happens that night and even though wade is a little confused both by the fact that logan actually fell asleep on him and that HE IS PURRING OH MY GOD- he doesn't fight it and even naps with him (the best sleep both of them have ever had considering lots of nights are full with nightmares and insomnia)
and the thing is- wade very carefully talks to some of the surviving xmen in their universe about it and they just go 🤔🤨❓️ because not one of them has ever seen or heard logan do this (i'd imagine maybe kayla or mariko, scott even - logan told him about them, but hey wade can't really ask them can he) and then wade REALIZES and it hits him SO hard. logan is comfortable with him. he's at ease and relaxed enough in his presence to allow himself to slip into his slightly more animalistic traits without having to fear any judgement or rejection. he. is. comfortable. and wade maybe cries a little (a lot) at that realisation, holding logan even tighter when it happens again - the older man slumped against him during one of their movie nights, sleeping tight and soft purrs vibrating deep from his chest
#ehm this sugar cube just tumbled out of me i swear#sorry about that#i had to I HAD TO all the poolverine purring fanart and fics have me on the floor#poolverine#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#logan howlett#deadpool#wade wilson#wade x logan#xmen logan#my hc writing#i just love how we've all accepted that the purring happens#no arguments taken#been working on the other poolverine fics but my mind is just hating everything i write down soooo#it'll take a bit#:-(#sorry#have at this my children#come scream with me about them
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She's just saying it to fuck with Shadowheart
#why is every little bit of art I made for this AU just these two bickering#i swear the others are Doing Stuff too#anyway#animation studio au#shadowzel#lae'zel#shadowheart#my art#baldur's gate 3
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Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3
-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3
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.)
@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife
#Steddie#I swear I’ll fix it#🔨🪛🪚 look I have my tools right here#let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for part 3!#angst with a happy ending#Steddie amnesia fic#concussed Steve Harrington#tw head trauma#Steve Harrington centric#whew boy we’re in for a bit of a roller coaster#Eddie Munson#Steve Harrington#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#steddie fanfic#Eddie Munson is a sweetheart#he’s just a little guy#Eddie x Steve#Steve x Eddie#pre-Steddie#but they’re heading there I swear#I WILL make the boys smooch I swear#but anyway here it is!#I’ve literally never had a fic blow up the way this one did#thank you everyone#my writing#write Rae write
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her.
#good omens#good omens fanart#crowley#crowley good omens#fem crowley#i cannot stop drawing leaves- I swear every idea I have recently is plant-based asgshdkd#anyways. bit outside of my usual uh- 5 different styles but it's fun to just wing it sometimes lmao
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seb and clora working on baby #1 👶 🔞🔞!! NSFW !!🔞🔞
[poipiku]
[twitter]
#celeste is technically in this picture💀 almost tagged her just to be truly unhinged LMAOO#im working on a oneshot rn where they finally do the deed without any contraceptives/actually try to get pregnant#surprisingly it wont have THAT much smut tho its just gonna be a small part of it I SWEAR!!! but then again we'll see#cuz seb always takes the reigns once i start writing him LMAO#the main focus is gonna be seb super excited/distracted leading up to the day and he cant pay attention to anything else BAHAHA#and then afterwards how even tho its too early to test he'll already be convinced clora is pregnant bc ITS HIS SWIMMERS CMON!!! no doubt#and then overprotective seb with preggo clora NATURALLY...even more insane than he usually is#and lawley will be making an appearance🥰to congratulate them ofc🥰🥰hes soooooo happy for them!!🥰🥰🥰#and theres gonna be a teensy bit of dad seb at the end hehe...honstly i wasnt planning to write any stuff with the kids#but i wrote a brief celeste/seb interaction and i was like aw wait this is cute?? i want more....so maaaybe there shall be more dad seb#hogwarts legacy smut#sebastian sallow smut#clora clemons#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x oc#sebastian sallow#choccyart
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#fields of mistria#I swear I’ll draw the other characters just let me indulge a bit 😭😭👉👈#doodle#idk if it went well LOL he gave super mixed signals but it isn’t march if he doesn’t 😭🤚#olric’s convo after the festival…heheh
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pupigoat beastars au first meeting thing lol part two of this
i made this tags real lol
they talked all day <3
#my art#cotl#the goat#wolf narinder#kirander#modern au#i guess???#still i'm just fucking around with this#chat does my account feel like a big adhd moment? i keep jumping from thing to thing it must be tiring#too many things in my head ouchy#also if you reconized the backward italian swear ... i love you a little bit <3#pupigoat#did i forgot the ship tag again? yes... yes i did
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Mobei-Jun getting abandoned in the human realm by his favourite uncle and being left alone and terrified?? baby???? gonna lie awake thinking about him and Shang Qinghua meeting as children
#svsss#shang qinghua#mobei jun#moshang#sqh#mbj#that is a DELIGHTFUL twist on their canon dynamic#where sqh is justifiably scared of mbj because he's a powerful demon who could squish him like a bug#instead here we have lil mbj who's terrified of all these humans and is alone and helpless and in danger#like he was left there to die! and his father just happened to notice he was missing after ten days!#like fortunately he wasn't hurt just dirty and scared but no wonder this guy has trust issues!#any fic recs about young mbj in the human realm - or de-age fics with him being scared around humans - i would deeply appreciate#because i want to chew on this entire concept a bit#(i'm never gonna finish this book i swear every three pages i have to stop and digest a random bit of trivia mxtx throws out and then!#doesn't! fucking! expand on!!! you can't just drop this on me and expect me to be okay with it i need to lie here and think about this!)#my art
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Change is a two-way street.
(Is my favoritism towards the Damsel obvious enough, or?)
note: TLQ [aka my sona Bloombird] is a butch sapphic and this is yuri
#slay the princess#stp fanart#stp narrator#stp protagonist#the long quiet#the damsel#stp princess#stp damsel#swearing tw#blood tw#tw sui attempt#ask to tag#I'm pretty sure it's canon that the Princess gets to outlive Birdman atleast for a short bit before the construct resets#and that oftentimes they BOTH have to die for it to reset. So.... I imagine pre-Damsel Princess was pretty devastated#I read a really beautiful comment on an stp soundtrack video about the parallel between Damsel and Witch/Thorn#and how Damsel so felt guilty she wanted to give up her entire personhood and desires just to make Birdman happy#so this is very much inspired by that
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welcome back to my accidental newfound journey to redraw every frame from this movie i GUESS
#mcu#xmen movies#xmen first class#erik lehnsherr#magneto#snap sketches#hello chat. i started watching a new miniseries and i decided i needed to draw something while i did so#series was edge of sleep. if Y'CARE. i thought it was solid .... surely gon be thinkin of the endin for a bit me thinks ..#but yeah NATURALLY. since twitter was putting the screenshot on my timeline ANYWAY.#can we tell i just wanted to draw this fuckass pose because TRULY i was not drwaing All That in the background#i can draw planes/machines but thats when i plan(e) to alright im not free styling that after renderin the bloke#unfortunately i couldnt just leave him in the white void so. we Kinda Try round here i guess#anyway next time i draw movieverse it gon be another scene redraw look at that !!!!!!#ive got silly non-redraws in mind too i swear ...... for now i just have shapes and scenes to appreciate#because the shapes of michael fassbender fascinate me in ways i must draw#ok im sleeping now im talkin nonsense !!!! i have a test in the morning </3 the world is so cruel .....#goodnight everyone :]]]]
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Every day I go insaine that "poolverine" was said in the first deadpool movie and now we're here
Did they know????
#LOOK WHAT YOU DO TO ME#AUUUGH#IM SO INSAINE FOR THEM#and i know it was just supposed to be one letter off from “wolverine” for the bit but STILL#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wade wilson#deadpool#logan howlett#wolverine#poolverine#deadclaws#peanutbub#I SWEAR IT WAS ON PURPOSE#THEY KNEW#THEY COULD HAVE USED ANY OTHER LETTER
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